


The Harper's Song

by TheIronAlchemist (PizzaNSunshine)



Series: The Harper's Song [1]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Dungeons & Dragons Online
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bards, Epic quest, F/M, Fantasy, Halflings, High Elves, Magic, Minor Violence, Necromancers, Rangers, Romance, The Harpers, Thief, Wizards, animal companion, barbarian, minor language, moon elves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:00:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 64,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7414843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PizzaNSunshine/pseuds/TheIronAlchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Su'riel, an elven bard and spy for the legendary, yet secretive faction known as the Harpers, has received a dangerous, new mission: to investigate rumors of a mysterious device that was last known to be hidden deep in the Calim desert. This device is surrounded by rumors ranging from mysterious to downright foreboding. Su'riel's task is to locate the device, discover what it truly is, and disable it. If that's even possible.</p><p>Rolan, an elven wizard, has devoted his life to scholarly pursuits and is in possession of a journal belonging to his late uncle detailing studies of the infernal engine. It is Rolan's deepest desire to complete his uncle's studies and find this infernal engine. He finds himself on a journey to the Calim desert to uncover the truth behind this ancient, mysterious device.</p><p>This is the tale of how this unlikely pair met and became traveling companions, the adventures they had, the trouble they get into, and the friendships they made along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Su'riel - The Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Su'riel's version of how she and Rolan became traveling companions.

The Harpers had just given me a new mission. They had received intelligence of something called the “infernal engine” located deep within the Calim desert. The Harpers had long known of this device, but it seems recent that interest in it had increased and numbers of mercenaries, treasure seekers and adventures were pouring into the desert to try and reach this machine. Which was worse, it seems that a group of Necromancers was responsible for encouraging this nonsense. The Harpers were generally certain that nothing good would come of these amateur explorations, so I was tasked to investigate the machine and report back to the Harpers; if it was dangerous, I would neutralize it by any means necessary, keep it out of the wrong hands and do all the other dangerous things the Harpers asked of me. 

My instructions were to leave at dawn. So I decided that if it was going to be my last evening in Waterdeep I would give one last performance at my favorite venue, the Flaming Dragon. It would be a memorable performance, and also, in order to protect my cover, I would let the fans know I would be gone for a few seasons. At the end of my performance I told the audience I was going the road in search of new songs and lore, but soon I would return to my dear Waterdeep and entertain them like never before. 

After this announcement I was approached by one of the regulars. He seem to have taken the news of my departure rather hard, and decided tonight was the night to proclaim his undying love for me. I politely tried to brush him off, but he was too drunk, too smitten, or too stupid to take the hint. After my politeness took on a bit an undeniable edge, he let me know that he wasn’t taking “no” for an answer, and if it wasn’t going to be forever it was going to be at least be one night.

Typically, I would simply play along until we were somewhere private and then bury a dagger in his ribs, find a convenient place to hide the body and not return to town for a while. However, I live in Waterdeep and this man was a regular. The Flaming Dragon maybe not be the nicest tavern in Waterdeep but it is comfortable and affordable for most travelers, and it was one of the first places to let me play and earn some coins. As an agent of the Harpers, the confluence of travelers makes it an ideal place to perform. Losing this venue wouldn’t necessarily hurt my operations, and I know the Harpers could make it all disappear, but it would still be bad form. I also felt I had a bit of loyalty to the place. However, the other advantage to such a tavern is that it is a crowded place with many would-be heroes looking to assist a “damsel in distress”. So I pushed him away, and said so most of the bar could hear “I don’t want to go anywhere with you, please leave me alone.”

About that time, a hooded man stood up. He was tall, dark, had broad shoulders, and spent the whole night brooding over his ale. He had that look about him of a soldier that had seen too many battles, and probably lost more than he had won. Instinctively, I knew my hero had just arrived and Mr. Drunken Regular was about to get hurt, bad. The hooded man knocked him out in one blow. I think most of the bar heard the crunch of bones, but by the time he landed in a heap everyone was looking somewhere else. The hooded man put his arm around me, and as we walked away I felt a little bad for Mr. Regular.

“Come along bard, I’ve been on the road for a long time, and I’d like you to give me a personal performance”. 

Well, shit. I was hoping this was the sort of hooded man that I could appeal to his nobler side and with a kiss walk away, but he was leading me toward the stairs and likely his room. I could also feel that he was wearing some serious armor, and the way he took down Mr. Regular wasn’t a lucky blow. Whatever his past was, killing him quietly or easily wasn’t likely. To make matters worse, the whole bar saw him “save me”. As he led me toward the stairs we passed a table of tieflings. They were eyeing everyone in the room suspiciously and I knew this was my last chance.

“Oh my god, did you just say that tieflings are good for nothing, except their women make the best wh---“. The words weren’t even out of my mouth when the biggest one at the table, threw it over and punched the hooded man right under his dark hood. Not my best bit of improv, but it got the job done. The hooded man released me and I dove behind the table. Just then, someone else shouted something about tieflings and the bar erupted into a brawl. I was about to look over the table when I saw a magic missile break all the glass in the window near me. 

I stood up and looked across the bar to see an elven wizard looking at me. I was shocked. When he first walked in, I instinctively labeled him as a mama’s boy. His hair was disheveled, and it looked like he slept in most his clothes, except for his relatively-new looking traveling cloak. When someone bumped into him and spilled his drink, I couldn’t tell if he was going to cry or hit the guy, and I wasn’t surprised when he just skulked to the hearth. Now he was standing there with his arm outstretched and was starting to look like the most dangerous thing in the bar. Our eyes locked for a moment I nodded him my thanks and vaulted out the window. From the street I heard the bartender yell, “Someone stop that wizard before he destroys my tavern”. I watched through the window as a fire bolt hit the vat of Fire Dragon Flaming Whiskey behind the bar. I ducked down as the vat exploded. 

As I was thinking about how my last performance really was memorable the wizard came flying out of the bar through the same window I had just escaped from. 

Mama’s boy rolled to a stop at my feet. He didn’t look so dangerous anymore, but he could still be useful. I heard the town guards coming, so I helped him to his feet and dragged him by the arm into the alley behind the tavern and kissed him deeply. I knew that if the town guard saw us, we could play it off that we had been trysting in the corner and didn’t notice the tavern was on fire. And Mama’s boy would be too flustered to tell them differently. After I saw the guard’s pass, I pushed the wizard away. Fun time was over. I had to get ready for tomorrow. 

“Thank you, kind sir. I appreciate your assistance, but I really must be off.” As I turned to disappear down the dark alley, he caught my arm. 

“Wait, I need you to go to my room”. 

Did I miss the part where Waterdeep imported the most persistent men that thought just because they helped a girl out that entitled them to a night of carnal delights? This time the alley was dark and empty, he was a complete stranger, and only his mother would miss him. I reached into my thigh-high boot to pull out a dagger, and just as I was getting ready to slit his throat I noticed he wasn’t even looking at me rather he was looking down the alley at the second floor windows like he was counting them. 

“Yes. That one with the window open…hmmm seems to be the only window open, ah that is probably bad,” he mumbled under his breath. 

He didn’t turn around, but he spoke up to address me, “Listen, clearly you’re a thief, and they will never let me enter this establishment again, perhaps you would do me a favor and slip into my room and collect my belongings.”

Alright, so he wasn’t trying to bed me. So that meant there was no need to kill him, for now. He had helped me escape the tavern and the town guard. He may be clueless about the world, but he might be useful. The Harpers value taking advantage of the serendipity. He might know something that can help us, even if it doesn’t further my current mission. I returned my dagger to it’s sheath.

“Is there something of value in your belongings?” He looked back at me and didn’t seem to notice that I had assumed a defensive stance.

“Nothing a thief would like, just the work of my dead uncle about a machine in the Calim desert, really it’s some ancient and esoteric knowledge only valuable to scholars, and sentimental nephews. Though I have some money if you require it.”

Really? A machine in the Calim desert? Well! Mama’s boy could be of more help yet. Though he clearly lacked any street smarts, I could see that he was a skilled wizard, and the value of a good wizard can never be overestimated. 

I decided it was time to turn the charm back on, though it didn’t seem to affect him like it did other men. “I’m not really a thief, and I like knowledge. I’ll get your things, but I would like to know more about this machine in the desert.” 

I practically purred these words, and I realized if I was going to keep this wizard around he would need a name, and the best way to get that was to introduce myself. “My name is Su’riel, by the way.”

He seemed to be thinking about something, perhaps my charms were affecting him, but he was reacting differently. “Rolan. It is a pleasure. Now if you would kindly…”. He still had a pretty strong grip on my arm, and I could see him blushing. Oh, I was affecting him. Once he let me go I handed him the lute. 

His room was toward the back of the tavern, so there was no risk of smoke or fire. It was an easy thing to get into his room, a few leaps up and over the various obstacles in the alley and I was able to pull myself in. Once inside it appeared that he had simply opened his window and thrown his pack on his bed. I was starting to suspect I wasn’t dealing with a mama’s boy so much as a young absent-minded professor. Of course either way I would still need to toughen him up a bit if we were going to make it to the desert. 

As I was starting to rethink my new best wizard friend, I could hear that the fire in the inn was put out and the guard was starting to sort out what had happened. Hopefully the tiefling would bear most of the blame, but the guards would probably come looking for Rolan before too long.

I gracefully leaped back out the window and into the alley and exchanged Rolan’s pack for my lute. I watched him as he mumbled some more things under his breath, but once he saw a leather-bound journal he seemed to relax. I was starting to worry the town guard would start searching the alley. Finally, Rolan looked up and jumped a little like he was surprised I was still there. 

“Come on, I have a place where we can stay tonight and you can tell me more about this machine in the desert. Tomorrow we can figure out what to do next”. 

I grabbed him by the hand and quickly started pulling him down the alley at a brisk pace. Before long we were far from the fire gutted remains of the Flaming Dragon. I had participated in enough “nocturnal activities” around Waterdeep to have a good idea of where most of the guard patrols would be and how to avoid them. Besides most of their attention was down at the Flaming Dragon. 

We soon came to my apartment; but I made sure that, between the darkness, and the back alley paths we took, it would be hard for Rolan to find his way back here. I did this just in case I needed to distance myself from him, for whatever reason. I needed to learn about this journal of his, and if he was seeking the same thing the Harpers had tasked me to find. If it was worth my trouble, I would also need to convince him that he wanted to take me along on his journey. Obviously I could just tell him that we would be traveling together, but my experience with these things, and particularly with men, is that it is best if he thought it was his idea.

I was pretty sure that this meeting wasn't a coincidence, but I thanked the gods anyway. When I first chose this unassuming and naive wizard to become my travel companion, I thought he would be the key to my success, what I didn't count on was that he would come to mean much more to me. Looking back, I thought I’d had everything under control and Rolan would simply be a means to an end. What I didn't know was how completely wrong I had been, and how happy I would be to have been so mistaken.


	2. Prologue: Rolan - The Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rolan's version of how he and Su'riel became traveling companions.

As I was leaving Silverymoon to begin my travels to the desert of Calim, I told my cousin, Peren, that I would be going on a long journey. He told me that if I passed through Waterdeep there was a particular tavern called the Flaming Dragon, which I had to stay at in order to sample their house wine. I, personally, am not a connoisseur of wine; unlike Peren, who is famous for his excess, but I have known the joy and comfort a good glass of wine can bring along the road. I made a note of Peren’s recommendation and upon arriving at Waterdeep I looked up the Flaming Dragon. 

The tavern was a little rowdy, filled with all matter of traveler, adventurer, local and other likely dangerous characters. The live entertainment was also boisterous and matched the tavern well. This was not the quiet establishment I would have sought out. However, I should not have been surprised, as Peren is the sort of elf that prefers his wine of one quality, and his women of another.

The Tavern was below an inn, so I made arrangements to stay at the inn. I went up to my room, which was unexpectedly of better quality than the tavern’s condition would have led me to believe. My only complaint with my room was that it was stuffy, but this was easily remedied by opening the windows. Once this was accomplished I left my belongings on the bed and returned to tavern.

Upon returning to the tavern, I took in my surroundings, and searched for a quiet corner to enjoy my wine and a hot meal. I had thought to retire to my room to further study my uncle’s journal. I noticed that an elf was playing for the tavern and she was as skillful as she was attractive. I did not think long on her, as I am a man of research and science and am not prone to such fanciful distractions.  
However, there appeared to be several men in the tavern who did think long and much of her, since they had given up their seats to gather around the dais. 

Because of their distraction, I spied a choice seat by the hearth. I ordered the wine and a plate of the tavern’s special for that evening from the bar and began to weave through the crowd towards the seat that had caught my eye. 

I must confess that I was a little annoyed as I was pushed and jostled with the movement of the tavern’s patrons as I struggled to get to my seat. Someone bumped me and caused me to spill wine on the new traveling cloak that my mother had given me for this journey. I had hoped that once I was seated the food and drink, which my cousin had so boasted about, would make this irritation fade from my mind. Sadly, after sampling the wine, I learned my cousin’s taste in wine was similar to his taste in women. To add insult to injury, the quality of the food matched the abysmal quality of the wine.

About this time, the bard finished her last song and made some pronouncement about this being her last performance for a few seasons. As she rose to take her leave, she was approached by a member of the audience. At first he seemed to have a familiarity with her, but then it became obvious that whatever his sense of their relationship was, it was one sided. She backed up in a curious way and told him she wanted to be left alone. There was something odd in her posture, like she was ready if help didn’t come. From a table near, her a hooded man rose, and he decided he would be the hero of the evening and with a crude, albeit effective, display of martial skill, put her admirer on floor. Then the hooded man put his arm around the elf and began to take her to the stairs to the inn’s rooms. Again her body language implied something was wrong and as they passed by a table of tieflings she made some comment that offended the tiefling, as one of the tieflings threw the table onto its side and they all attacked the hooded man. 

When this occurred, the entire bar erupted into a brawl. As I stood to leave, a flagon of ale came flying in my direction and spilled the tavern’s obnoxious swill all over my traveling cloak. I feel the need to mention again, that this was a gift from my mother. She had personally selected it for me, and then paid extra to have it neatly embroidered. I was enraged, and without thinking, I sent magic missiles flying in the direction that the flagon had come. I saw the missiles hit two people, and the third missile destroyed a window near the stairs. I watched as the source of the chaos made eye contact with me, gave me a curious nod and then acrobatically flipped through the broken window. 

Near the bar I heard someone yell something about a wizard, and again without thinking I sent a firebolt in that direction. Once again, my bolt missed, but this time it struck a large vat of what must have been a potent liquor as the whole bar seemed to explode. Just then, one of the bar’s regulars, likely a barbarian, lifted me up and threw me through the window I had just destroyed. As I rolled to a stop I found myself at the feet of the bard, who I was starting to suspect, and would indeed later learn, was no stranger to evenings such as this. 

She quickly helped me to my feet, grabbed me by the arm and drug me into the alley behind the inn. In spite of my instinctive protest, she began to kiss me. Deeply. Her kisses were so impassioned that I almost began to rethink my role as a scholar. Behind me I heard the feet of the town guard rushing to the tavern. 

Just as I realized she was using me for a convenient alibi in case the town guard searched the alley, she pushed me away and said, “Well, kind sir, I thank you for your assistance, but I must be off”. 

Before she could go I grabbed her arm. “Wait a moment”. I told her, “I need you to go to my room.”

I was generally certain that my room looked over this alley, it took me a moment to get my bearings, but I was able to ascertain which room was mine, seeing as I was the only one who had opened their window. It also occurred to me that perhaps opening my window and leaving my things in the open might have been a foolish thing to do. 

“Listen, clearly you’re a thief, and they will never let me enter this establishment again, perhaps you would do me a favor and slip into my room and collect my belongings?”

I turned back to look at her, and she was looking over me in the most curious way, like she was appraising a precious jewel. 

“Is there something of value in your belongings?”

“Nothing a thief would like, just the work of my dead uncle about a machine in the Calim desert, really it is some ancient and esoteric knowledge only valuable to scholars, and sentimental nephews. Though I have some money if you require it.”

Her looks softened, and she leaned in like she was going to kiss me again. “I’m not really a thief, and I like knowledge. I’ll get your things, but I would like to know more about this machine. My name is Su'riel, by the way.”

Between the previous show of affection and her sudden desire to help, I was a little taken aback. I almost was unsure what to say, but then I remembered my manners. “Rolan. It is a pleasure. Now if you would kindly…” 

She looked over at her arm which I had forgotten that I still held. I quickly apologized and thanked the gods that we were in a dark alley on a dark evening, so that she couldn’t see me blush. 

She handed me her lute, and with a speed and stealth that challenged reason, she climbed into my window and before I knew what had happened she had returned with my pack. I returned the lute to her, and mumbled thanks, this time embarrassed about the ease at which my things could have been stolen. I searched for my uncle’s journal. Once I knew everything was accounted for I looked up half expecting her to have disappeared but there she was politely waiting. 

“Come on, I have a place where we can stay tonight and you can tell me more about this machine in the desert. Tomorrow we can figure out what to do next”.

Now she had me by the hand and before I could question what she meant by “we” or raise any form of protest, she was leading me down dark alleys at a break neck speed, and before I could get my bearings we had arrived at some apartments in the a much finer district of town.

I had no way of knowing it at the time but this bard would become my traveling companion, and no matter how much it seemed like I had some choice in the matter she always got exactly what she wanted. I was a man who preferred a quiet life of study and intellectual pursuits but from the time I entered her presence my life was the opposite, and yet I enjoyed nearly every moment of it.


	3. Chapter 1: Su'riel - The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Su'riel and Rolan discuss his uncle's journal. Su'riel sets Rolan straight on a few important points about her occupation and they both get some rest before embarking on their journey the next morning.

As we entered my apartment, Rolan asked “How do you afford accommodations this nice by playing at that deplorable tavern?” I didn’t even have to turn and look, I could tell by his tone that Rolan was impressed.

“I have a few wealthy patrons” I explained as I set down my lute in its stand near the door. 

“Oh? And I suppose they set you up with these accommodations for your services playing for their family gatherings and performing magic shows for their children’s birthday?” 

“Rolan,” I began trying to control myself carefully hanging up my cloak, “you need to get a few things straight. I am not a thief, if I choose to take something from someone it is because it wasn’t theirs in the first place, or it is better they not keep it. Second, I’m not a…” words failed me for a moment. I was so infuriated that I had defend myself to this man I had just met, who as near I could tell probably still did everything his mom told him.

“Trollop?” he interjected. 

That did it. I hate being interrupted. I hate being corrected. And I hate that word being applied to me. I spun around before I knew it I had one arm across his chest pinning his arms while pushing him into the door, and the other on my dagger. “TROLLOP? MAGIC SHOW FOR CHILDREN? I’LL GIVE YOU A MAGIC SHOW. WANT TO SEE THE TRICK WHERE I MAKE A DAGGER DISAPPEAR?

Rolan sighed, and gave me an apologetic look. “I am sorry Su'riel. I am often careless with my words, I do not always consider how offensive they might be. I did not mean to imply anything, and your business is your — ”

I sheathed my dagger and slid my other hand over his mouth, “Just stop. Please, Rolan, stop.” I took a few deep breaths. I needed to calm down, what in Selune’s name was wrong with me? I released another breath and took a step back from Rolan. 

“I’m merely a performer that is skilled with dance and musical instruments,” I looked him square in the eyes to emphasize these words, ”and it is that skill, and only that skill, that is prized by several noble families of Waterdeep.” Honestly most of my money came from Harpers and this building was owned by one of their agents who allowed me to rent it for a very reasonable fee. However, that was none of Rolan’s business. 

I paused for a moment and took another breath. “I’m sorry, Rolan. I can be a little impulsive.”

“Yes, I believe I saw some of that at the bar this evening, with the tieflings.”

“That was actually a more calculated move to get that hooded jerk to let go of me. We should talk about something else, what brought you to the Flaming Dragon in the first place?”

“My cousin had recommended the wine.”

“Oh gods, really!? The Flaming Dragon is famous for their Fire Whiskey. Their wine is…it’s terrible. I seriously think their wine is a concoction of the dregs the bartender finds leftover in barrels behind other taverns.”

“Well I am learning my cousin either has poor taste in wine or he is saving his money.”

“For what?” 

“Oh likely prostit-…“ I gave a Rolan a glance that I’ve been told could stop a charging owlbear.

“Rolan. Another thing, just between you and me. You are not allowed to say, trollop, prostitute, whore, tart, courtesan, strumpet, wench or any other similar word in my presence again.”

I think Rolan honestly thought for a moment of trying some other word for prostitute, but he instead raised his hands in a show of surrender and said, “Yes, again, I had no intention to offend. Perhaps we should just call it an evening. Do you have a couch I could sleep on? In the morning, I will gladly depart and take my offensive vocabulary with me.” 

If the Harpers learned that I had a potential lead to my mission and I squandered it over his poor choice of words, they would reassign me to sewer patrol in Baldur’s gate, or some other fate worse than death. I honestly had no idea why Rolan’s simple choice of words struck such a chord with me. I barely knew him, and honestly I’ve been called and treated far worse. There had even been a few times on assignment where I had honestly needed to consider the lengths I was willing to go to accomplish my mission. But here I was in my house with a near stranger who made an honest mistake and suddenly I was offended by an inference I would have made had I been in his position. 

“Rolan, it’s been quite an evening for both of us. I had hoped for a quiet evening to prepare for my journey, and I’m certain this wasn’t how you meant for your evening to go either?” 

“No, it certainly was not. I had no plans to get into a brawl, or burn down a tavern.” That was an odd thing for him to say, because that could be a weekly occurrence for me, though I don’t usually plan to burn down the tavern. 

“Rolan, you came to one of my favorite taverns looking for some good wine, and I’ve treated you very poorly. Let me freshen up, and we can enjoy some excellent drink and you can tell me about your uncle’s machine in the desert.” 

“I do not think you will find it particularly interesting”. 

“Nonsense. I told you, I am fascinated by lore and I’m always looking for new stories. I’m a bard, we sing, we dance, we tell great tales, but we can’t do that without hearing the legends of old. Your uncle’s machine may be part of one of those legends. Please indulge me. I’m going to go change clothes and find us a bottle of good wine, the sort your cousin and his type have never experienced. While I’m gone, please make yourself at home. There’s a wash basin in the corner, you can scrub off some of that soot.” 

Rolan blushed again, so that was promising. If I was lucky, he might even do something with his hair…I still can’t figure out why I even cared. 

I walked into my bed chamber and closed the door. I slipped off my boots and my performance clothing, scrubbed my face, let my hair down, and applied a little perfume. I then turned my attention to my robes. This was a difficult choice because most of my evening wardrobe was either designed for comfort, or style. 

The problem with the comfort was none of them were anything I wanted to entertain in, or even be seen in. The problem with style was that it was cut to show just enough skin to distract most men, and reveal enough of my curves to keep them distracted. I settled on a particular robe that wasn’t too revealing, but it also had an inner pocket that could conceal a knife or a vial of potion. I slipped into the larder and found an appropriate bottle of wine, and a vial of fast acting sleeping potion. 

I was pretty sure that Rolan was no real threat to me, but a girl can never be too careful. An odd thought struck me, I wondered if Rolan’s mother knows he is in the house of a strange woman who is wearing a robe designed to seduce men, has a sleeping potion in her pocket and happens to be an agent of the Harpers. The idea almost made me laugh so hard I would have dropped the crystal glasses. 

I returned to the main room and Rolan was sitting on the couch. He had washed his face and slicked back his hair. The effect was startling, he looked like a new man. He was mature, handsome. I was no longer thinking about Rolan’s mother. He looked like a wizard you would take into the desert to confront a cabal of necromancers. Thankfully Rolan was engrossed in his Uncle’s journal. This gave me a moment to set the glasses down, compose myself and get my act together. 

I offered Rolan a glass of wine. “Here Rolan, try this. It’s not the best Waterdeep has to offer, but it’s better than what you had at the tavern.” 

He took a careful sip, “Ah. Yes, that is much better”. He then took another deeper sip but still demonstrated that he appreciated the wine. 

“Alright Rolan, we have our wine, we’re both comfortable, now tell me about this machine.” I sat next to him and put my head on his shoulder. I really wanted to see this journal for myself, it was a little forward but Rolan didn’t seem to mind, or perhaps he didn’t notice. 

He thumbed back several pages, near the beginning of the book. Rolan’s only interest now was in his uncle’s work. I could tell that I shouldn’t have worried about my robe, I could have worn my shapeless sleeping gown and my fluffy dire wolves slippers, or nothing at all and I’m certain Rolan wouldn’t have noticed the difference.

“Well, my uncle studied the infernal machine for several hundred years.” Rolan began, “He had multiple theories on what it was and collected an impressive amount of knowledge and lore on the subject. However, he did not know for certain what the machine’s purpose was.”

Rolan began to walk me through his uncle’s journal. According to his uncle’s work, the machine was something ancient that had been known to multiple cultures. The trouble was each culture seemed to have a different theory behind the machine as well as different opinions as to whether it was good or evil. One culture stated the machine was part of the mechanism that kept the earth rotating. Another culture believed it had the power to turn a man into a lich king. Another culture believed it was some portal for the gods to travel between worlds. There was another culture who thought it would bring about the apocalypse. The descriptions of the machine were generally the same though.

I listened to each theory along with the abundance of information that Rolan was eager to divulge and discuss while offering a few thoughts of my own, asking insightful questions every so often to try and get a more defined idea in my mind of what was in store for us in the desert. 

As the evening wore on, I noticed two aspects of Rolan’s journal that troubled me. First I could hardly follow the writings they seem to alternate between elvish, common, some ancient dialects of both languages, and a third language I couldn’t quite recognize, maybe ancient infernal. Even Rolan struggled with parts of it. This meant that, for good or bad, I would need Rolan if the journal was going to be any use to me. Part of me wasn’t sure that was a bad thing. The other part that troubled me were several allusions to necromancy throughout the journal. Eventually I had to ask Rolan if he studied necromancy.

“No, no. I am much more interested in evocation. Nothing good ever comes of necromancy. My uncle though, in his younger years was…well the family never talks about it. The uncle I knew was a good man. At least he was a mostly good man, but he did have a darker side to him.”

I was content; I wasn’t helping a necromancer, Rolan and his journal would prove useful to my mission, and I decided right then that we would, indeed, travel together. As Rolan the intricacies of the infernal machine in even greater detail, I drifted off to sleep. His utter disinterest in my coveted feminine form made me think that the machine was probably named “infernal” by the lonely wife of some scholar like Rolan. 

When I awoke the sun was just rising. Rolan was snoring lightly, but the journal was still open in his lap. As I got up, I must have startled him. He jumped a little, and then stretched. 

“I do apologize, I must have dozed off. Let me collect my things and then we can part ways.”

“Rolan, that’s not necessary. I find your machine quite interesting, and I’ve already determined to go on a journey. I haven’t chosen any particular destination.” 

He gave me an inquisitive look, “Su'riel, would you like to join me on my journey to the Calim desert?” 

Oh good, I didn’t have to ask him, but I still had to play it right. “I was thinking about only traveling with you until we got to Baldur’s gate or so, but perhaps, perhaps I could journey with you, if nothing else along the way strikes my fancy.” 

This needed to be his idea, and I wanted him to try and sell me on it.

“I would very much like that. Last night’s adventure has taught me that I’m not quite ready to go it alone, I could use someone who, ah, well...to be honest, when I speak people usually want to throw me out of windows or bury daggers in my chest, but when you speak you seem to get precisely what you want.”

I was sold, already he was learning. Now if I could just toughen him up a little more, and get him to comb his hair, this whole thing just might work out. 

We emptied my larder of perishables, had a feast for breakfast, and packed anything we didn’t eat into our bags. As we ate breakfast, I reflected that Rolan had no idea what we were in for, but he was my traveling partner whether he knew it or not. One advantage to traveling with a mama’s boy was that he would probably do exactly what I wanted him to do. Of course along the way I planned to make a man out of him, even if it killed him.


	4. Chapter 2: Rolan - The Barbarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rolan and Su'riel rescue a barbarian named Beyor and defeat a band of highwaymen.

Su'riel has proven to be an interesting travel partner. When I first agreed to travel with her, I had woken up in her apartment back in Waterdeep. That was a confusing evening. After Su'riel instigated a brawl that nearly destroyed a tavern, she dragged me to her apartment. When I carelessly chose a few words to express my bewilderment at the opulence of her accommodations, she threatened to “make a dagger disappear” in me. I was not fully convinced that she would have truly injured me, but I was certain to apologize. 

I also learned that she has a particular aversion to prostitution being spoken about in her presence. The reason for this aversion eluded me; I suspect that either it is part of her past that she is trying to leave in her past, or her family was murdered by a band of prostitutes. There simply could be no other reason for her violent reaction. It is inconceivable to me that she was trying to impress me, or prevent me from thinking something untoward about her.

I have a sister, Rusillia, who is a healer and she once described a mental condition wherein a generally civil person is prone to sudden and unpredictable episodes of violence or self-destruction. Initially I thought that, perhaps, Su'riel suffered from this ailment. However, Su'riel seems to have a hidden agenda of her own, one I cannot fathom, but it drives her. After a few days together, I believe the violent outbursts are simply a weakness of hers, similar to my own occasional thoughtless conversation. When Su'riel realizes that her impulsive behavior is out of control, she seems to step back and attempts to influence things back into the direction she desires.

Whatever her agenda is, I believe it concerns the infernal engine. She showed an unusual level interest in my uncle’s journal and had several insightful questions, not just about the machine but about my uncle and his past with necromancy. I also could not fail to notice that she wanted to see the journal for herself. She left me for a few moments to freshen up and when she returned she was wearing a robe that seemed expressly designed to seduce men. It took every ounce of self-control that I possessed not to stare at her or attempt to try and see the few parts of her that the robe barely concealed. Thankfully, the infernal engine is a pursuit I have had for many years and so it was a capable distraction. Further, I am a scholar, and above such petty desires. Though, I must admit, it was pleasant to sit with her and have her lean on my shoulder. 

I was very pleased when she indicated she would travel with me. I suspect her statement about only going as far as Baldur’s Gate was a ruse. Su'riel likes to get her way without appearing to actually get her way. I have a sister with a similar disposition, but when my sister attempts to get her way it comes across as passive-aggressive or heavy-handed manipulation. Su'riel has mastered this ability, and when she ensures that a situation turns in her favor, it feels like everyone wins. The exception may be the night at the tavern where she had a tiefling, a hooded man, and one of the regulars start a brawl so she could escape. However, she seems to prefer that everyone wins or there is violence, and that is Su'riel’s way.

Before we set off, Su'riel seemed to have packed up her entire larder between the two of us, and what she did not pack, we ate. With the exception of a few family reunions I do not believe I had ever eaten so well. Whatever it is that Su'riel does, for I suspect there is more to her than what meets the eye, she is certainly well compensated. The only low point of the morning was when I realized the state of my traveling cloak. Upon inspection, I noticed that it had lost much of its original newness. Now, it had several stains, a small tear that must have occurred when I was thrown through the window, and the hem of the right sleeve was singed, possibly by my own fire bolt. I was starting to suspect my prized cloak would not survive the trip to Calim.

Our first day on the road was uneventful. I tried to converse with Su'riel but my inexperience with women made some of my conversation choices poor. She was interested in the history of the trade way, and she had heard some of the lore, but my extensive knowledge of the sewer system of Baldur’s gate resulted in her playing her lute for several miles. 

The second day on the road was mostly spent in the back of a farmer’s cart. With a dazzling smile and the promise of sharing her sumptuous victuals, she was able to convince a farmer to take us nearly a day’s journey. When we stopped for lunch, Su'riel had me wade out into a nearby stream to retrieve some thick reeds, and then she demonstrated to myself and the farmer’s young daughter the art of making a simple flute. For the remainder of our ride, Su'riel taught the young girl to play her flute. In the late afternoon, the farmer dropped us off at a crossroads and we continued our journey south along the trade way, as they turned east. I had the impression that the farmer had not intended to take us as far as he did, and he also seemed a little annoyed by the end of the flute lessons. But Su'riel left him with another bottle of wine and he gave us a semi-cheery grunt as his daughter enthusiastically waved her farewell.

Su'riel asked many questions about my family. I told her about my large family and how I was the youngest of eight children, I also told her that my mother’s sister had given birth to nearly as many children and so it seemed like I had over a dozen siblings. About this time, we had established camp as the sun was setting, and we had a nice fire going. Su'riel was sitting across from me on a large rock, brushing her hair. As I told her about my brothers and sisters and their various professions, an odd, almost expectant look crossed Su'riel’s face.

“Rolan, do you know how to braid hair?"

As a young child I had learned how to braid my sisters’ and female cousins’ hair. When my older brothers saw me doing this, they ridiculed me extensively. This resulted in my being hesitant to help out my sisters or cousins. They, in turn, were not pleased to lose another pair of hands to help with hair braiding. My refusal actually caused quite the battle of the sexes between my siblings and the cousins. When my mother learned the whole thing, she made my brothers stop, but the damage was done. Whenever I annoyed my brothers I was reminded of how I was more of a sister to them. Later, my father would tell me that it was good to help out others, particularly the family; sometimes our help would have a cost, and we might have to bravely endure it. As a child, I did not understand these words.

I am not sure how long I thought about this episode from my childhood because I was roused from my thoughts by Su'riel. She had walked over to the log I was sitting on and pushed her brush in my hands. “I have no idea what sort of lie you are trying to think of, but I’m pretty sure you know how to do at least a simple braid, and so you are going to braid my hair.”

Su'riel sat cross legged between me and the fire, and I began to brush her hair as I explained my hesitation. For whatever reason I felt the need to show her that I knew more than just a simple braid and so I put her long black locks into the most complex braid I knew. Su'riel had brought with her a small hand mirror, and when I had finished she inspected my work.

“Very nice Rolan. Very nice. I don’t usually put my hair up in this style, but for travel this will be good, and nice to have my hair off my neck.”

“You are going to have me doing this every night now I suppose?"

“Can you do other styles, like just a simple long braid to the side, or if I wanted the braids curled up like buns?"

“Yes to all your questions. My sisters and cousins enjoyed variety and individuality.” For some reason I was still ashamed to admit this knowledge. Truthfully, this was probably the only esoteric knowledge I wish I did not know.

“In that case you might be doing this several times a night, and before each of my performances.”

I groaned. Su'riel stopped examining herself in the mirror and turned to me. “Rolan, I know that braiding hair may not seem like the most manly of activities to your brothers; but for a girl who loves having beautiful luxurious long hair, but hates having to brush it and braid it, having a man around that can do this”, she motioned to her and around her face, “is like a gift from the gods.” 

“Very well Su'riel, but please let this be our secret."

“Certainly, Rolan, but in order to buy my silence, I require two things,” I sensed that now Su'riel was just having sport with me. Truly, I was just as inexperienced with women as I was with the world outside of Silverymoon. This inexperience with the world was the main reason I had asked Su'riel to join me; however, I had no idea where I might find a guide to navigating the complexity that Su'riel represented.

I concluded I was being played with, so I made a big display of sighing and said, “Very well. Su'riel, state your terms.” 

“In order for me to keep the secret of your hair braiding abilities, my terms are: 1. That you undo my hair and just give me a simple braid to the side, and 2. That you redo this nice tight braid after breakfast. I don’t think this braid will be comfortable to sleep on."

“I accept your terms.” I began to take down her hair as I commented, “I’m just glad that those are your one time terms and not a daily requirement to fix your hair before you sleep, when you wake up and before each of your performances."

“Oh! Wait, actually those are my terms. The thing you said, but you still have to do the thing I said.” 

“WHAT! You cannot just change your terms after I agreed to them.”

“Oh, I can and I did. Now either accept my new terms or I’ll start composing the ballad of Rolan the Wizard Hairdresser.”

“Well, I do not see how I have a choice but to accept” I said with mock anger. Truthfully, I did not mind so much, I found the act of brushing Su'riel’s hair to be relaxing. I could not honestly say if she appreciated the fact that she was getting what she wanted, or if she enjoyed having her hair brushed for her, but either way she seemed happy.

Su'riel laughed at my mock anger, and then with mock sympathy of her own replied, “Well then let me at least repay you with a song.” She pulled her lute over and began singing a song about a young female warrior that had to choose a love between two kings.

I brushed her hair and reflected on the fact that generally Su'riel got what she wanted, but it was not always to my express disadvantage. When the braid was to her liking she stopped playing. We had agreed that nights on the road we would each trance for four hours while the other one stayed awake, so I offered to take the first watch. Su'riel went over to her side of the fire, crossed her legs, and sat in a meditative posture and began to trance. I realized then that Su'riel would be sitting up for the whole night, so why she had me redo the braid was beyond me. I prepared my spells for the next day, maintained the fire, and examined my uncle’s journal. After a few hours we switched roles.

The next day I came out of my trance as the sun was rising. We packed up most of our things, I braided Su'riel’s hair, as per the previous night’s agreement. We enjoyed our morning tea before breaking camp. I noted the low clouds and the generally pink sky and we both agreed we were likely in for some rain.

We had not gone too many miles before we found ourselves in a terrible thunderstorm. We took cover from the storm in a large tree. I tried to learn more about Su'riel’s past, but she was generally  
guarded. She told me about her apprenticeship as a bard and how her parents were artisans that had been murdered by bandits. She also explained how she had come to Waterdeep where the Flaming Dragon was the first place that allowed her to play, and earn a living. There were clearly parts of her story she was keeping back. I could not say if this went back to her issue with the word trollop, or if there was something greater. I suspected something greater as her interest in the infernal machine seemed to go beyond a bard’s mere love of lore.

The storm stopped soon and we resumed our journey. After about half a mile we came across a large, burly man blindfolded and tied to a tree on the side of the road.

“Who’s there? Please, by Tempus, or whatever god you worship, help me.”

As I approached, Su'riel grabbed my arm. “Rolan,” she hissed in my ear, “this is a trap, we need to go back the way we came and go around this.”

“Nonsense, this man clearly needs our help.”

“Rolan!” she was no longer whispering, “No. Don’t be an idiot. I’m telling you, this is exactly how I would ambush us. Look around, there is a blind curve in the road, thick trees to hide archers, this man is probably the lookout”

“That is highly unlikely, seeing as he is blindfolded. Though it is true; someone must have done this to him.”

“Yeah, someone did this to me! For the love of Krom, untie so I can avenge myself!”

Su'riel looked around, pensively, as though she were considering my words while she waited for archers to step out from behind the trees. “Rolan whoever did this to is probably still around, and if they could over power this man we’ll have a hard time dealing with them.”

“I suspect they tied him up here in the hopes that a lightning bolt would strike him or that he would generally die from exposure, as either one seems likely. Whoever wanted him dead, likely left him when the thunderstorm rolled in and left it to nature to do their dirty work.”

“By Kiri-Jolith. I’m still trapped here now. If you’re done with your lecture could you let me down?”

“Rolan, this is foolish. Perhaps he is in league with some greater wizard, and this is some illusion. I’m telling you, we are one step away from attack.”

“Oh by Hextor and Heironeous! I promise you, this is no ambush. If there is a wizard about, free me and I’ll help you slay him.”

“Listen to the man, Su'riel, and besides he seems like a spiritual man. He has mentioned at least four gods since we came up here, surely someone like that would not seek to trick us.”

“Every one of them has been a god of war or death.”

“Well, that is a bad sign.”

“She’s right, but I’m a barbarian; a very bored barbarian, who will likely die here if you two don’t help me.”

I spied the knot that bound the man to the tree. It seemed like a simple enough knot and I had no problem untying it and releasing the man.

Su'riel was still looking around waiting for assailants to appear. “Rolan you are going to get us killed, please let's just leave now.”

He was a massive man. He was taller than me by at least six inches. He was blonde human with bronze skin and long blonde hair and beard. All he wore was leather britches.

“Pardon me sir, why were you tied to this tree?”

“I’m not exactly clear on the details, I was drunk at the time.”

This did not appear to reassure Su'riel.

“Perhaps you could speculate as to why someone might tie you up.”

“Well it could have been the father or brothers, or even husband of some woman, or possibly several women. It seemed like a lot of angry bastards.”

I felt I was missing something, “What did exactly did you do to their women to upset these men?”

The Barbarian laughed, “I gave them the night of their life, and then I may have, moved on to the next woman. This happens to me from time to time?”

“You are often left in the wilderness for dead?” I inquired.

The Barbarian laughed. A huge boisterous laugh. “No, I meet up with angry relatives, usually I beat their asses, but enough about me. Thank you friends. I maybe a barbarian and a wild man, but I don’t return a favor with violence.” He walked around the tree and examined the place he had been bound. “How do you reckon they tied it so tightly?”

“Well it was a fairly simple…”

“Never mind, elf, I’m a warrior, and I hate to confuse my mind with complex things. It distracts a man in the heat of battle. It’s enough that you helped and I thank you for not treating me like some simpleton. My name is Beyor, who are you?" By now he was standing in front of us. He was taller than me by nearly a head height, and he towered over Su'riel. He extended his hand in greeting.  
I reached out, and he grabbed my forearm and nearly crushed it. “I’m Rolan and this is…” I looked over at Su'riel she had taken her hands off her daggers but she still looked like she was about to attack him, “Su'riel.” She was staring at the man, but when I said her name she relaxed and took in a deep breath.

“I’m sorry” Su'riel began to apologize “it’s just that it isn’t often you meet someone on the road in these circumstances.”

He laughed again, “In these circumstances. HA! It does look bad, I know. Look, Rolan, you are obviously a smart guy, but your wife seems to be a little skittish. Since I owe you for your help, how about I accompany you to the next town.”

That seemed reasonable to me, but as I was about to agree, Su'riel interjected. “I’m not his wife."

“Really?” he gave another boisterous laugh, “Well you two certainly argue like you’re married, by Dol Dorn, you could have fooled me.”

“Beyor, I appreciate your offer, and would welcome your company.”

“Good. Let me see if my things are around here somewhere. But let me give you both some advice. Rolan, you shouldn’t put up with any woman with a tongue like that unless she has agreed to give you a child. ‘Never put up with a woman that doesn’t put out’ as my father always told me. And Su'riel, if you want a real man, you need to put some more meat on those bones.” He laughed and walked behind the tree, apparently looking for any belongings that may have been left behind.

I turned to Su'riel, and she had the look on her face like she was preparing for another disappearing dagger trick as she hissed, “That tongue! More meat on the bones! I don’t know what sort of weak willed, mealy mouthed obese women Barbarians prefer, but if I knew he was going to talk to me like that I would have…”

“Su'riel, listen…”

“And you, you let him talk to me that way.”

“Su'riel if I had punched him, he would have laughed at us both, and I cannot just set anyone on fire every time they offend you.”

“Why not?”

Beyor returned, with a large leather pack and a battle axe. “When those boys grabbed me I had everything on me, I wondered if they would keep my stuff or just throw them in the bushes. Lucky for me, it was the bushes. Now, what are you two talking about? Wedding plans?”

“As a matter of fact--” I began just as Su'riel elbowed me hard in ribs. Beyor saw her reaction and laughed.

“Come, my elf friends, if we are quick we can be to the next town by nightfall and Rolan, I can show you how to find the perfect wench.”

I fearfully looked over at Su'riel, but she was shaking her head, after a few minutes she took out her flute and began to play a song that was popular many years ago. I could not quite remember the words, but I think it was about a woman that killed her lovers in their sleep.

After Su'riel grew tired of playing her songs of revenge we talked to Beyor about how he had ended up in the tree. Seems he was a simple warrior for hire, and had spent most of his life fighting under different banners. He was not exactly sure who had tied him to that tree or for what reason. He figured that he had impregnated someone’s daughter or sister or wife, but he explained how he had been with so many women it was hard to determine which one exactly caused had sent her family after him. Suriel seemed to become more and more angry as he spoke. He just laughed most of his experiences off. He described his personal philosophy as the events that befell him were the result of one god cursing him or another god’s blessing. Since his family had died, all he lived for was wine, women and war, but then he stated times had been tough so it was mostly beer, bitches and battle. Then he laughed some more. I was starting to like Beyor, I think it was the laugh.

In the afternoon we came near a bridge but before we could cross it, several armored men stepped out from behind the trees.

“To cross this bridge you have to pay the toll,” announced the man in the middle of the group of three armored men.

“Very well,” I said as I reached for my coin purse.

“Rolan. These are highwaymen, this is not a toll bridge.”

“What? How do you know?"

“Because when a lord sets up a toll bridge, he puts some bureaucrat taxman on the bridge backed up by soldiers. Everyone looks bored. There is no bureaucrat and these men look a little anxious. Also, men working for the local lord don’t usually put their archers up in the trees.” I looked over Su'riel’s shoulder and saw an archer with his bow pointed at Su'riel. I heard the stretch of a bow string behind me as well.

The three men approached us, and the center one addressed me. “Your wife is correct, my good man, so if you would kindly hand over all your coins, you can be on your way.”

“Oh, she is not my wife,” I laughed. Su'riel stopped looking at the highwayman and turned to me.

“Not your wife, and you’re laughing. What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?"

“Are we going to fight?” Beyor whispered murderously.

“Alright,” the man in front of Su'riel, put his hand on her shoulder and began to speak, “look here, miss-not-his-wife, you need to shut your mouth while the men are talk-“ The words never escaped his mouth. As he put his hand on her shoulder Su'riel swept her right arm over his arm to trap his arm, and then stabbed him in the armpit with her left hand. With a cruel twist she ensured the wound was fatal. At the same time she spun around into his chest, keeping his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He gave a strange wet gasp as the archer behind Su'riel fired at her but hit his fellow highwayman in the back. She spun him around as an arrow flew over my shoulder into the man’s back a second time. This time, he fell over with Su'riel trapped underneath him.

As this was happening Beyor roared and charged into combat. After he passed I was looking at the archer behind Su'riel. Instinctively, I cast a flame dart that hit him in the face. As he screamed and went down, his clothes and the area around him were on fire. An arrow hit me in the arm, but I was too excited to think about the pain. I turned around and caught the second archer with all three of my magic missiles. They failed to kill him, but he looked like he was done fighting. 

I looked over to where Beyor had charged. This is when I had noticed the screaming. I fully turned to look as Beyor was literally hacking the two men to pieces. Su'riel was up now, and walked over to me. 

“Ever seen a Barbarian in battle?”

“No”

“They go into a berserker bloodlust like this, it’s a terrible thing to watch.”

It was a terrible thing, but somehow I could not turn away either, until we heard a twig snap. Su'riel looked over at the archer, as he was trying to limp away. “Stay right there. Or my wizard will put a spell of immobilization on you, and my berserker will have his way with you.”

I pointed at the man, I did not have any immobilization spells ready but it seemed best to play along. I was going to have to talk to Su'riel about her calling me “my” wizard, but given me laughing about her not being my wife, a conversation about our relationship seemed inevitable and painful. It suddenly occurred to me that the violence she did to that highway man might have been actually directed at me. Soon Beyor joined us, he was covered in blood, breathing heavily and laughing hysterically, but he seemed to be in his right mind. We walked toward the archer.

“What is that horrible smell?” Beyor asked as we drew near the man.

“I believe it is the other archer I hit him with a flame bolt and it set him on fire."

Beyor laughed “Oh, so you are a real wizard and not just some guy that plays with ropes.” He laughed some more “but it doesn’t smell like burned flesh. No. It smells like this little pansy-ass shit himself.” 

The man nearly fainted as Beyor said those words, and suddenly I was feeling weak. I looked over at my left arm and suddenly I remembered the arrow.

“Su'riel, I need a little help." She looked over at me, and her face registered concern.

“Rolan lie down, you’re losing a lot of blood.” Things were starting to get dark. Su'riel looked over to Beyor. “Beyor, I need to talk to that archer, don’t kill him, at least not yet.”

“Does he need all his limbs?"

I sat down, and things got darker. Su'riel was beside me now looking over my arm, she looked over her shoulder, “What? Yes, or no. He needs to be able to talk and maybe walk.” I looked over as the archer passed out, and soon I joined him as my world became a blanket of darkness.


	5. Chapter 3: Su'riel - The Bandit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Su'riel found a Harper token on a dead bandit and is determined to discover the fate of the token's owner. Su'riel and Beyor interrogate the bandit while Rolan recovers from his arrow wound. A little bit of Rolan/Su'riel fluff at the end :)

There was blood running down Rolan’s arm. I helped him down and sat him against a tree. I could tell Rolan had lost a lot of blood, but it looked like it was all from that one arrow wound. I knew how to magically cure a wound, and the Harpers had taught me some basic first aid, but it all seemed like a distant memory. 

The irony of the situation was not lost on me. I could easily put a man on the ground without thinking, but now my friend was dying and I couldn’t remember the simplest of first aid, and speaking healing words without removing the arrow seemed counter-productive.

“Beyor, do you know how to treat an arrow wound?”

“Is the arrow stuck in a bone or does it look like it will hit something vital? Have you seen any rope?” Beyor called over from the archer. 

I looked over Rolan’s arm, but his cloak was in the way and tangled around his arm, so I cut the cloak up to where the arrow was. I could see both ends of the arrow. It looked like it had hit him in the forearm and passed between the bones. “I think it passed through."

“Nevermind, I’m just going to tie him up with his bow string. See if you can break the arrow off as close to the wound and then just push it through.” 

I tried breaking the arrow but I just wasn’t strong enough and it looked like I was making the wound worse. Beyor was suddenly next to me, and he snapped the arrow in two like it was a twig and pushed it through the wound.

“Su'riel, put pressure on both sides of the wound and try to keep it over his heart. Watch the archer while I try to find their camp. By Krom, I hope it is close by.” 

I clamped my hands onto Roland’s arm and tried my best to keep his arm raised over his head. I felt so foolish, while Beyor seemed calmed and collected. Well, perhaps collected isn’t the right word. While he was constantly laughing and saying rude and vulgar things, this was probably the least he had laughed and the most helpful words he had said since I had met him this morning. I took a calming breath and realized I could now cast healing words over the wound. I had to cast it twice, but when Beyor returned things looked better. He had brought a bottle of clear liquid and more rope.

“The bandits live in a small cave under the bridge and have been there for a while. They had plenty of supplies and treasures.” He took a long pull from the bottle and handed it to me. 

“Here, I’m pretty sure this will clean the wound.” He had me let go of Rolan’s arm and then he emptied the bottle onto both sides of the wound. Whatever the liquid was, it was generally odorless but slightly sour.

He then produced several pieces of white cloth and started tying a bandage around Rolan’s arm. “This looks much better already.”

“I cast healing words, but he still hasn’t revived."

He looked back at me with a slightly startled look. He then laughed, “Don’t worry elf, he’ll be fine, and the bandits left us a case of the stuff, you can try some, and maybe we can drink it till you’re pretty.” Beyor gave a hearty laugh and I knew unfortunately he was back to his usual self.

“Maybe I’ll crack your skull with an empty bottle."

“Oh-ho! So you like foreplay, do you?"

“No, just cracking skulls." 

Beyor laughed again, “You’re right little elf, you’re right. They might have left enough liquor to drown in, but it’s probably not enough to make me find you attractive.”

“Well that’s lucky for me, if you make love like you fight it would all be over before I finished my first glass.”

Beyor looked at me for a second, and I was honestly worried I had finally said too much. He studied me carefully, then he laughed again. “I like your fierceness elf, you’d make a good sword sister, if you weren’t so small. Of course, the way you slew the first bandit makes me think we might make a sword sister out of you yet, we just need your lover to cast a spell on you to make you taller and stouter.” Before I could retort, he showed me Rolan’s bandage. “Look after this Su'riel, I purposely chose white cloth from the bandit’s stores. If it turns red we’ll either have to seal the wound by burning it, or apply a tourniquet. But I think your healing words did the trick, he’ll just need to rest.” 

Beyor’s amazing way of helping me keep Rolan alive, and then following it up with some cruel or lewd comment, was really confusing to me.

Beyor walked over to our prisoner tied him up again with the rope, and then dragged him back over. The archer was waking up now and he seemed to have gotten some of his fight back, though he still stank from where he had lost control of his bowels. Ugh, gross. Beyor had tied his arms and hands behind his back and stood him up so he could walk, but his feet were tied together so that if he tried to run, he would trip. 

He handed me the rope. “If Stinky here tries anything stupid, give this a sharp pull and he’ll fall on his ass, give him a few savage kicks and he shouldn’t try it again.”

“My name isn’t stinky it’s-“

“If I wanted your name, I’d beat it out of you, which I’m tempted to do later anyways.” Beyor looked him over and he seemed to shut his mouth. “Now, do what you’re told, when you’re told, and you might live through the night, Stinky.”

With that, Beyor then grabbed Rolan’s good arm, stood him up and hauled him over his shoulder. He led the way down below the bridge to a small hidden cave, before we entered, Beyor stopped me and the prisoner and then gently took Rolan inside and laid him down. “Why don’t you go sit with your lover and make sure he is comfortable while I help the prisoner wash up.” I shot him a glare but took his advice and went to attend to Rolan.

Rolan looked as comfortable as was possible in the current conditions. Beyor had set him down near the fire pit with a pillow under his head. I wasn’t sure how long he would be out, so I looked around the cave. Beyor was right; the bandits, as he called them, had quite the storehouse. 

I wasn’t sure how long it would take to interrogate the archer, so I found some bread and apples and left those near Rolan. I was thinking that eating was the best thing for someone who had lost blood. I checked the bandage; it was still on tight and hadn’t turned red. I couldn’t think of anything else to do for Rolan so I slipped outside.

Outside the cave, Beyor had made the man remove all his clothes, tied his hands behind his back and was throwing him in the water, shouting general threats and obscenities at him and then pulling him back to shore and cruelly dragging him across the rocks. A few times he simply held the man’s head under water until he stopped fighting. Beyor seemed to be enjoying this a little too much.

When he saw me standing next to him, he pulled the man in again threw him as far as he could, and then whispered to me “I’ve got no idea what you want to ask him, but I’ll be amazed if he doesn’t tell you the truth quickly.”

When I killed the first bandit, I got tangled up with him while I was trying to use him as a shield. When I pushed his dead body off of me, I noticed a strange pendant around his neck. It was a Harper token. Each Harper carried a concealable item that identified them to other Harpers. For a moment I worried that I had killed a fellow Harper, but it seemed more likely he had killed a Harper and kept his token. I was glad when I saw that Rolan had not yet killed the last archer, and I was hoping I could find out if the bandits had killed or captured any Harpers.

Beyor pulled the man to shore again and set him down near one of the bridge pylons. I decided to try and take the lead.

“Take a few deep breaths, if you answer me honestly you can be on your way soon enough. If you want to be brave, this will only take longer and be more painful. Let’s begin. What is your name?"

“Richard-- it’s Richard--” Beyor reached across and slapped him so hard he fell over.

“Shut up! Your name is Stinky now, because look at you! I’m sure this fine elf woman has seen real men who don’t crap themselves in a fight.”

I looked over at Beyor and mouthed for him to STOP. I couldn’t tell if he was psychotic or just wanted to make this a good town guard/bad town guard interrogation. Either way, I was starting to suspect that Beyor was going to make things a lot more difficult than was necessary.

Beyor put him back into a sitting position, and I tried again. “Alright, Richard, my friend and I don’t like ambushes and you’ve hurt our wizard, and that wizard is special to me, so...”

“That guy is special to you? He laughed when Devron called you his wife," Richard laughed in my face.

I forgot all about good guard/bad guard, I reached for my dagger and I just yelled, “I’m going to stab you right in your little-” when I was interrupted by Beyor shouting “That’s because he is my lover!"

The Harpers had given me some training in interrogation, and this was certainly not how it was supposed to go. Beyor lifted the man by his neck, and I had to act quickly to convince Beyor to drop him. I was starting to become concerned that Beyor was a moment away from killing the man. 

I realized that between the two of us, it was now or never. I pulled out the token and showed it to the man, “How did your friend come by this? Tell me before my friend decides to either avenge our wizard or make you his new lover.”

Whatever fight or bravery he had previously displayed, it had all left when he relieved himself. “Look -- there, there were two men. We caught them sneaking around our camp, we thought the town had sent them or something. We killed them both and Geth found that necklace on one of them, we didn’t know it meant anything.”

“Did they have anything else on them, any papers, or books?”

“Yeah but none of us can read. We put all that stuff in one of the chests in the back of the cave, I swear! You can look for yourself.”

I looked over at Beyor, “That’s what I needed to know. Maybe we can find him some clean pants, tie him up and take him into town in the morning.”

“I say we tie him up and throw him down the river, let the gods choose his fate.”

“He knows we’re here, and he may have more friends down river.”

“More fights? Then let’s definitely throw him in the river.” Beyor looked over my shoulder, “Stinky, you bring your friends back here. I’ll stay here drinking your wine and waiting to send them to their gods.”

I turned around and even in the growing gloom I could see that Richard was shaking. I looked back at Beyor “The town’s people may offer us a reward.”

“What good is a reward, when we can be engaged in glorious combat, woman?"

I was growing weary of this, “Beyor, reward money can purchase drink and the services of one of those large wenches you can’t stop talking about. Now please, just cover him and make sure he can’t get away. I’m tired of looking at -- ugh! Just cover him up!” 

Beyor laughed, grabbed Richard and roughly pushed him back into the water to make sure he was clean before leading him into the cave.

I looked in on Rolan. He was still asleep, and I was starting to get concerned. Beyor pushed Richard in and told him, “Find some pants, Stinky, and if you try anything stupid, I’ll cut off your hand.” He laughed his loud boisterous laugh and Richard jumped. He then looked over at Rolan and whispered to me, “His color is returning, he’ll be fine, just give him a bit more time.”

“Richard, before we tie you up again, show me the chest where you put my…” I had to think how I wanted to phrase this, “…kin’s belongings.”

Richard gave me a sour look, but nodded, as he slipped on a pair of pants. He led me back to a dark alcove where three similar chests stood, he pointed to the middle one, “it’s all in there.” I put my hand on the chest, but it all seemed wrong. I turned to order Richard to open it, and that is when he punched me right in the stomach. The blow knocked the wind out of me and I collapsed next to the chest. Before I could get up Richard was on top of me and preparing to beat me senseless; I reached up and opened the chest. There was a strange mechanical sound, and then a mill saw blade flew out of the chest and cut off Richard’s upraised arm. He screamed and Beyor came running and grabbed Richard and threw him into the wall. 

“I told you, you dumb little shit, if you tried anything stupid, I would cut off your hand, and don’t think that your own accident gets you off.” Beyor was whispering murderously again. He pulled out his battle axe, and Richard looked up in terror, his face seemed especially pale in the fire light, he held up his maimed arm and tried to plead. I was still struggling to breathe and sit up when Beyor brought the axe down. Beyor looked over at me and asked if I was okay. I still couldn’t speak and I don’t think he could see me in the dark alcove. Beyor let out a curse and again brought his axe down on Richard, and then ran over to me. I was just getting my breath back when he pulled me into a sitting position, I motioned him to give me some space. In a few minutes I could breathe again and Beyor had thrown the pieces of Richard out of the cave and into the river.

I felt stupid, and I think Beyor did too. We sat in silence around the campfire for a while. I had Rolan’s head on my lap and Beyor had the case of the clear liquor next to him, after about the third bottle he just laughed. “We may have made some mistakes today, but our enemies are dead, and we have all the drink.” 

He was right, but somehow I thought I was smarter than some of this. Beyor seemed to sense my shame. “There is nothing wrong with a mistake in battle, as long as you learn from it,” He laughed again, “and your enemy is under your feet. Now drink with me, elf!” I looked up just in time to catch a bottle of the clear liquor that he threw at me.

I took a long drink from the bottle, it had no taste but it burned worse than fire whiskey. I coughed. “Are you sure this is safe to drink,” I asked hoarsely.

Beyor finished his fourth bottle and laughed. “Safer than those chests in the back of the cave, I’d wager.” He laughed again, “Now, you must be the gloomiest bard I ever met, play me a song, something appropriate for our glorious victory.”

I pulled my lute over and began to play a boisterous dance song, but during the bridge I transitioned into a sleep song. Between the liquor and the late hour, the song had the desired effect and soon Beyor was snoring loudly.

I looked down at Rolan, he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. I began to play with his hair, straightening out his disheveled locks. His eyes opened and he looked at me. As our eyes met, my breath caught in my throat. He smiled, reached up and caressed my cheek. I couldn’t resist leaning into his touch. 

“You have the most beautiful smile, I could stare at it for hours,” Rolan whispered to me.  
I was pretty sure this was the loss of blood talking, but I didn’t care, Rolan was alert and doing better, and he didn’t talk like that foul-mouthed barbarian.

“What happened, how long have I been out?"

I looked around, I didn’t want to explain about the interrogation, partly to keep my allegiance to the Harpers a secret, and partly because I didn’t want to think about the insane interrogation circumstance that Beyor had created. Also, my pride was still wounded from allowing our prisoner to attack me too.  
“We’re in the bandit’s hideout, it’s a cave under the bridge.”

“What became of the archer you wanted to question?”

“He attacked me and Beyor killed him.” Well, honesty was generally the best policy, even if it was just partial honesty, so far so good. 

“We also learned the chests in the back are trapped, so be careful with the treasure.”

“There is treasure?”

I suddenly remembered that I had food for him to eat. “Yes, but we’ll sort it out in the morning. Here are some apples and bread, you should probably eat something.”

He slowly sat up and bit into the apple, he then examined his arm for the first time. “Did you do this?"

“No. Surprisingly, Beyor put on your bandages.”

Rolan looked over at the snoring form on the other side of the fire. “I will have to thank him in the morning. I like Beyor.”

Well, that makes one of us.

“I did cast healing words on your arm though.” I suddenly wanted some of Rolan’s gratitude and appreciation.

“Well, that must be why I feel so strong." He flexed his arm a few times and smiled at me. I’ve never been so happy and proud to know a bit of magic as I was that moment. Rolan took off his cloak and frowned at the long rip in it, then he draped it across both of us.

“Su'riel, I am not certain I can go into a trance tonight, I would rather just sleep. I am glad you are here though, I am quite fond of you.” He leaned against the back of the cave wall and rested his head on my shoulder and soon he was asleep again.

I was suddenly feeling anything but tired. I couldn’t tell if the loss of blood had made him “punch-drunk” or if this near death experience had given him a new interest in beautiful elven bards. 

I spent a long night trying not to fall asleep. I had made the mistake of prematurely letting my guard down one time too many that day and was keen to avoid making the same mistake twice. 

I spent most of that time trying to figure out if Richard had lied to me about the Harpers, and how we would get into those other chests. It didn’t help that I was also distracted by Rolan’s profession of “fondness.” Whatever that meant. I should be mad at him for laughing about the idea of me being his wife, and the fact he didn’t keep his end of the bargain to braid my hair. 

But I was just glad that he was alive, and oh how that smile of his made it impossible to be mad. Somehow, being wrapped up with him in his traveling cloak made the insults and injuries of this day seem insignificant.


	6. Chapter 4: Su'riel - The Chests

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rolan and Beyor attempt to open some magically booby-trapped treasure chests, with no luck. Su'riel discovers that Rolan has written about her in his journal and realizes that she's starting to feel something towards him. Perhaps he feels the same way? The gang heads to Daggerford to find a skilled thief to open the treasure chests.

I didn’t sleep much that night. I remembered watching the fire die down, and noticing the first light of the day streaming through the cave entrance; however, I must have dozed for a bit because I awoke to the sound of loud clanging, like someone was trying to bash through a chest with an axe. Rolan was already gone, and so was Beyor. Rolan had left me wrapped up in his cloak.

I knew that Rolan had to be fine, but I needed to see him for myself. I threw off the cloak and hurried toward the dark alcove. As I approached, Rolan turned to me and said, “Ah good morning, Sur-“

I launched myself into his arms. “Rolan! You’re up and moving. How’s your arm?"

“Good,” he gasped, I might have knocked the wind out of him when I hugged him. Then without thinking I did a move that was like something from a dance where I spun around so my back was to his chest, and at the same time I placed his right arm around my waist and draped his left arm over my shoulders, then I started to undo the bandage on his forearm.

Rolan let his arm linger around my waist for a moment and then he let it slide down to his side. I was a little disappointed when he stopped touching my waist. If I hadn’t been busy undoing the bandage, I would have encouraged him to leave it there, but at that moment, I really just wanted to see how the wound was healing. As the bandage slipped away I could see the wound was mostly healed, just a small faint scar remained.

“That is amazing Su'riel! Your healing words did great work.” Rolan’s praise sent a strange sensation of warmth through my body.

I spun around again so I was facing Rolan. This time, as I spun around, I took a step back and while sliding my hand over his, so his arm was now draped around the back of my shoulders, and we were face to face. Because of his height and me taking the step it forced Rolan to stoop over, and our foreheads touched. I tilted my head to the side because I was pretty sure Rolan was about to kiss me, when Beyor laughed.

“Well Rolan, looks like your nurse wants her payment. You two want me to step out of the cave?"

“What?!" Rolan stood up to his full height and we both turned to face Beyor. I gave Beyor my owl bear stopping look, but he just laughed.

“Glad you could join us, elf. Now if you’re done trying to seduce my friend, maybe you could help us with this job.” I scowled at him. His terrible laugh ruined my moment. It was like a song interrupted or having cold water poured on you when you are asleep. 

Suddenly, the heaviness and exhaustion from the previous evening weighed down on me. I wondered if a song existed that could kill a man, I would like to learn that song, and play it especially for Beyor.

Beyor turned to the alcove, “We’ve tried about everything we could think of. Rolan tried casting mage hand, but the chest was too heavy, I tried to bash the damn thing with my axe, but that didn’t do a lick of good either.” 

Rolan reached down and intertwined his fingers with mine, I looked up at him and he smiled. My heart fluttering a bit, I returned his smile with an amused grin of my own.

“We tried moving them out of the alcove, but they are magically stuck in that space,” Beyor continued, “We thought of trying to open them without being in front of them, but the alcove is too damn small. And I’ve seen chests that spray acid, or gas. You were lucky the chest you picked was one that launched blades.” Beyor laughed, “but Stinky wasn’t so lucky now was he.”

It took me a moment to realize what Beyor had said, I was still staring at Roland and his smile, but then Beyor’s laugh broke the spell again and I winced a little as I remembered the events of last night. I looked over at the wall, and the saw blade was still wedged into the wall with the highway man’s hand trapped above it. The disembodied hand made me shudder as I let go of Rolan’s hand.

Rolan walked over to Beyor and asked, “Do you believe the highwaymen were able to open these chests?”

“Probably” answered Beyor, “They were thieves after all.”

“Ah, perhaps the solution is just to get a thief of our own.”

“Rolan,” I began, “I already told you, I’m not a thief, and even if I was, I don’t have the skill or tools for opening these chests.”

“I am quite aware, Su'riel, that you are not a thief. I actually have a list of things that you have told me that you are not. I have been maintaining the list in my journal.” I suddenly preferred the Rolan who had lost a lot of blood.

Beyor laughed so hard he dropped his axe, “Oh, by Aries, I wish I could read. Rolan, please, get the journal and read me this list.”

“Well some of the items she has forbidden me from speaking in her presence.”

I clenched my fists at my side as my temper slowly rose to the surface. I contemplated methods of returning Rolan to the sweet, slightly punch drunk from loss of blood state from the night before. Perhaps I could stab him, wait till he lost of few pints, and then speak healing words again. I didn’t sleep much, but I was pretty sure the spell would be effective enough.

Beyor was laughing so hard he had trouble standing, “If Bahamut himself was here and offered me one wish, offered me anything, I would choose to read.” 

I turned towards Beyor and narrowed my eyes. I could use my lute to get Beyor go to sleep again and I could stab him until he stopped laughing.

“Alright Rolan, no more,” he continued to laugh, “I’ve nearly pissed myself. I’m going outside to get some air.”

I watched Beyor walk out and then I turned on Rolan, “ROLAN! Why would have a list of things that I’m not in your journal?"

“My uncle kept a journal on his study of the infernal machine. It was-“

“ROLAN! I am not some infernal device to study. AND IF YOU PUT THAT IN YOUR JOURNAL I WILL SHOW YOU THE DISAPPEARING JOURNAL TRICK!” I thought I heard Beyor laughing again, but I didn’t care.

“It was his great obsession, this machine was a great mystery to him. It was something that he knew was nearly beyond the limits of his understanding, but he thought through careful study, detailed notes, and examination he could understand the machine and know everything it was.”

Wait, what? 

“I’m your great obsession?”

“Well I would not necess-”

“Just hush-up, Rolan. Please braid my hair. And then we’re going to find a thief.”

For a man that seemed so clueless about women, he certainly had a way of accidentally saying the right things. I just had to stop him before he said too much. I picked up my lute and strummed thoughtlessly. For whatever reason, having Rolan brush and braid my hair was a comfort I never imagined. It reminded me of my childhood. Somehow with each knot and tangle released, the stresses of the day disappeared.

I started to drift off to sleep and as Rolan told me he was finished, I laid back on his chest for a quick catnap. 

Beyor strolled back in and laughed, “Oh, it got quiet. I thought she might have killed you, or maybe she decided to throw you down and make a man out of you.”

I groaned and sat up, “You only got it half right, Beyor. I was going to kill you, then make a man out of him.”

Beyor laughed. “Elf, I love your spirit, but you’re so skinny you could never please me.”

“Did you two fight like this the whole time I was unconscious?”

“When we weren’t making Stinky shit himself, yeah.” 

Beyor laughed again.

I debated if I wanted to take a nap, and let Beyor and Rolan go to town, or if I should go to protect Rolan from Beyor’s influence. 

“Well Beyor, we could stay here insulting each other, or perhaps you know of a town where we could find a thief.”

“Daggerford is near here, and I know a strange corner where two Halflings perform. It seems my coin purse always turns up a little lighter when I stay and listen to them.”

“Then why do you stay at the corner?” Rolan inquired.

“I dunno.”

It was mid-morning now, but Beyor assured us we would be to town before lunch. It didn’t take long to prepare ourselves and get back on the road. Along the way Beyor asked Rolan about how we met, and Rolan’s rendition of our meeting was, quite frankly, boring. He lacked the skill and panache of a bard. I was eager to hear his side of the story though. 

Unsurprisingly, he left out some of the better parts. Like the robe I wore the night he stayed at my apartment. Of course, I would prefer that Beyor not hear about that anyway. Then again, it probably wouldn’t matter. Beyor has taken every opportunity to let me know that he doesn’t find the petite elven female form attractive. 

I still wondered what Rolan thought. I could look it up in his journal, but knowing Rolan it would say, “Has pleasant and correct proportion of meat to bones, though some men may find it inadequate.” On second thought I had better avoid looking it up in his journal, because if it said anything like that, I’d probably stab him. Stab him with his journal.

I realized my temper was getting out of control, and it was because I was sure Rolan viewed me as some other “scientific curiosity”. I was waiting for him to start pointing things out to Beyor, and say things like “Look a coniferous tree, and these stones are smooth from river erosion, and have I told you about the sewer system of Baldur’s Gate and see how we are being followed by a short skinny elf of breeding age”. Before I even realized what I was doing, I reached up and smacked him in the back of the head. Even though he was still talking about the first time we met and hadn’t said anything about me. Both Beyor and Rolan stopped and turned to face me.

“Su’riel, are you alright? Did you slip?”

I was embarrassed, and mumbled that I had tripped. As we began walking again, I realized I wasn’t angry at Rolan exactly, I was angry at me. I was angry because I wanted Rolan to pay more attention to me and talk more about me. By the gods, why is he affecting me like this? I tried to think about other things as we walked into town.


	7. Chapter 5: Su'riel - The Halflings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Su'riel, Rolan and Beyor head to Daggersford to find a thief. Su'riel has become quite attached to Rolan and they have a sweet moment alone.

It was only an hour's walk from our bandit's cave to the small town of Daggerford. Beyor led us to a busy street corner near a Tavern, where, just as he said, a husband and wife halfling team was performing for a small crowd. The wife was playing her lute while her husband sang and walked among the crowd with his hat outstretched.

The song was charming and compelling and I wanted nothing more than to stay and listen all day, maybe I could dance a little. That is when I realized that I knew that song, and it was made to be charming and compelling and hypnotic. I shook my head a bit to clear it and I stepped back to watch as the male halfling would occasionally steal someone's purse or deftly reach into someone's pocket.

When he got near Beyor, I smacked Beyor as hard as I could in the back of the head, which was something I had been waiting to do for a while.

Beyor turned around with his nostrils flaring, "WHAT!"

"Grab the halfling," I told him, pointing to his side. He spun around so fast he caught the Halfling with his hand in his pocket, he lifted up the Halfling as he let out a litany of curses. Before anyone was the wiser we hauled him into the alley next to the tavern.

I put laid a hand on Rolan and Beyor's arms and stepped between them, as I said, "Allow me do the talking, gents." I was hoping to avoid having Rolan say something stupid, and Beyor turning this into another interrogation of madness.

"Set down the Halfling, Beyor."

"Ah! Look 'ere lassy if ye're looking for your loss change, it went to feed mah family. The missus and I, we've got a lot of little ones."

"Actually we need someone with light fingers and some skill to open a chest for us."

"Ah! Ye need me services. Well then, just step into mah office and we'll discuss the terms, just let me get mah business partner."

The halfling ran to the end of the Alley, and shouted to his wife, "Heyo! Joy, we got some business to talk with this lot. Respectable business over pints."

He turned back to us, "Well come on then, into mah office." He motioned to the Tavern door.

We walked into the tavern and the Halfling motioned to the woman behind the bar. "Brunnie, we need five pints and mah booth." The barmaid looked rather large, but cheerful. She motioned toward a back corner booth, and started taking down glasses, as the Halfling led us to "his booth."

The booth was set in the back corner with a good view of the door, the seats on one side were higher than the seats on the other side so that halflings or dwarves could be eye to eye with humans and elves. Well most humans, Beyor still towered over them. As we sat down the female halfling joined us.

"Alright, the name's Scotty, Scotty Tolk, and this is mah mate, Joy." They honestly looked like they could be brother and sister.

"I'm Su'riel, and this is Rolan, and…"I looked over at Beyor but he was watching the barmaid. I turned and suddenly I noticed she was the most obese woman I had ever seen, with every step her gigantic breasts, calves and forearms shook. For a moment I was riveted myself, but then I turned back to Scotty, "...and this is Beyor"

"So ye says ye need a chest open. Standard fee is 20% of the treasure in the chest, plus a findah's fee."

The Barmaid sat down the pints in front of each of us, and when she turned to leave Beyor picked up his pint and followed her back to the bar.

"Oh my! When he spoke of large women, I thought he was talking tall, I did not believe he meant women of such…girth." Rolan whispered in disbelief.

I was also distracted,. I glanced over at Scotty and Joy and, they too, seemed a little amazed. We watched as Beyor leaned on the bar and talked to her. She giggled daintily and blushed.

"Oh my, Brunnie never gets such attention from 'andsome men," Joy interjected

"Not sober ones anyways," Scotty replied

"Scottish Gamgee Tolk. Don't ye take away from that woman's joy, you let 'er be! That mans 'andsome and you keep ye mean opinions to ye self." She hit him across the chest a few times while she corrected him.

Like everything else of late, this situation was spinning out of control. "Back to business, Scotty, I'm not giving you 20%. That is not a standard fee."

"Nah wait now, thah is always time for a bit oh' pleasure before business. Ah've got five silver here, that says ye", He placed five coins on the table and motioned to Rolan, "cannot guess ol Brunni'es weight."

Rolan looked around at the bar, "Well given her height, and the way the floor creaked when she walked over here, I would say…22 stones."

Scotty's eye narrowed, "Twasn't a fair bet, nay twasn't fair," he shook his head several times, "we did na shake on it, got ah shake for it to be fair an' square." Beyor laughed from across that bar, I glanced over but he was still staring at the barmaid. I hated that laugh.

Joy's eyes flashed, "Scotty, you give 'im his money, he won it fair an square." She hit him across the chest a few times and Scotty begrudgingly passed the silver coins to Rolan.

"Alright Scotty," I started to try again, "Look, the chest is full of sentimental objects, I have other money I can pay you, but I would prefer that I keep everything in this particular chest."

Scotty gave me a shrewd look, "Where is this chest oh' yours?"

"We were attacked by bandits outside of town, it was their camp." Rolan interjected. I wouldn't have said that, but we would have to explain it sooner or later.

"Ah Devron and his lot, ah right, ah right. I may know about this chest, tell me though was there a particular clear liquor among tha bandits cave."

I looked over at Beyors pack and pulled out a bottle, "this?"

"Ah yes, Erasmuses white lightening, ye let me have my pick of their other treasures outside the chest, and as much of this as I can carry and you got a deal."

"NO!" Joy interjected, "You know how ye get when ye've been drinkin' that cursed drink. Ye get one bottle." This time she didn't hit him, which surprised me.

"Women, don't ye be tellin' me how I makes mah deal."

"Scotty, our colleague drank much of that particular drink, there may be only two or three bottles remaining."

"There Scotty, there, that is what ye get three bottles, no more." Joy hit him across the chest each time she said "there."

"Alright, but these chests, if'n they be the ones I think they are, it'll cost you 50% of the total treasure."

"50%!? Are these chests some amazing magical items? Maybe they are too hard for you to open. I should find another locksmith"

"Ye can't, no one else would touch em'."

"Pardon me, but it seems that there are 5 of us, and perhaps it would be most fair to divide the treasure 5 ways. Scotty would you and your wife accept 20% each, or 40% total?" Rolan interjected. This was terrible bargaining, but the effect on Joy was almost worth the loss.

"Oh! I get mah own share?!" Joy seemed fundamentally shocked. Scotty was about to make a counter offer, when Joy hit him a few times across the chest, "Nah Scotty, they offered me mah own share, you take that offer, or I'll make ye life 'orrible all ye days." Scotty put up his hand to defend himself and once Joy stopped, he leaned over the table.

"Alright 40%, it is, but I keep the bottles. Now, let's shake on it." I hope a simple handshake was going to be binding enough, Scotty seemed to play by his own rules, but I felt certain Joy would keep him in line. I liked her.

We shook hands and then he then he raised his glass, "Now we drink!" With a whimsical little flourish he finished his pint, slammed it on the table and bellowed for more pints then pointed to Rolan, "and he's buyin'."

A moment later a shadow fell across the table, and I thought the bartender had returned so I looked up only to see the hooded man from the Flaming Dragon. At least I thought it was him. His hood was down, and his nose looked like it was broken and was still healing. The cloak, I was fairly certain, was the same.

"Pardon me halflings, but I have business with this bard and her wizard companion." He said wizard like it was an insult or a joke.

"These be mah' business partners, and seeing as ye've got no business with them, ye can just see yeself outta' mah office."

The hooded man pulled back his cloak to display a long sword on a sword belt. "Listen here you stupid little halfling. I am the bounty hunter, Poison, and your so called business partners, or whatever the hell it is you just mumbled, are worth enough money for me to drag them back to Waterdeep to get paid. This woman here instigated a fight that broke my nose, and this so-called wizard -"

He looked over at Rolan with a quizzical look, "What is wrong with the wizard and why is he staring at my sword?" I looked over at Rolan, he was staring at the bounty hunter's sword like he was in a trance, when I turned back I saw a disembodied hand undoing the sword belt. "Hey dumbshit," Poison bellowed, "have you never seen -"

His sword fell to the ground with a clang. He looked down, and placed his hand on the table as he bent over to pick up his sword. Before I knew what had happened Scotty stabbed his hand. When Poison felt the knife he tried to stand back up but hit his head on the table. He then stood up in a rage looking at his hand.

At the same time Joy slid under the table grabbed the sword and placed the handle in my hands and drew back the scabbard. I scrambled out of my seat to make sure I was ready for the fight that was about to take place and placed the tip of the sword against his neck. Scotty was now standing on the table with his foot on the dagger he had embedded into Poisons Hand. Scotty had a second dagger at the ready in case Poison tried to attack him.

Rolan looked Poison in the eye with one eyebrow raised and said, "I have seen many swords, have you ever seen a mage hand?"

"Who's the dumb shit now, bounty hunter?" I asked making sure to put the same nasty inflection on bounty hunter that he had put on wizard.

"Not I, not I, cause 'eve sword, and she's a beut" Scotty sang.

At that moment, Beyor came running up to the table.

"About damn time, you missed an opportunity for violence," I called to him.

"Yeah, look, Brunnie says no bar fights, so you all either need to leave or put your weapons away."

"We just picked up this 'ere sword, when mah mate here dropped it." Scotty said as he tried to secretly conceal his dagger.

Poison looked over at Beyor, "This one stabbed me, and these two -"

"Ah no, no 'e stabbed 'imself, everyone saw it." Scotty interjected.

"Beyor, would you kindly throw this man out? I assure you, he is the problem." Rolan asked in a tone that implied he was ordering a meal.

Scotty got off the table as Beyor picked up Poison and manhandled him out into the back alley, and locked the door behind him. The knife was still in the table when Beyor returned, "Look Brunnie and I are going upstairs for a while and she is locking up the bar. Could you not destroy the bar or start another fight for a few hours? And why is there a bloody knife in the table?"

"'Twas that way when we got here."

"Scotty, this is tha friend, you didn' need to lie" Joy gave him another few blows for good measure.

"Alright, just don't destroy the place while I'm away."

Scotty and Joy stated they need to leave to make preparations before we left. I'm pretty sure that Scotty was making sure to leave before the tab came. They agreed to meet us back here in a few hours.

After they left Brunnie shooed the other two or three patrons out and locked the door, closed the shutters, and her and Beyor disappeared upstairs. Rolan lit a candle and pulled out his uncle's journal.

"If that is a proper wench, I want nothing to do with them," Rolan whispered after we heard a door close upstairs.

"So you don't share Beyor's taste in women?"

"I have seen leaner livestock taken to market. No. I do not share his taste in woman."

It seemed a little vain, but after nearly two days of Beyor's constant badgering I needed a little boost, "So, Rolan, what do you find attractive in a woman?"

"Well I like a smart woman."

Nope, not helping. "So if Brunnie was smart, would you fancy her?"

"And risk her crushing me in her sleep? No thank you."

"What about short, lithe elven dancers with alabaster skin and dark hair?"

Rolan was thumbing through his uncle's journal, "I had never thought much of them."

"OF THEM!?"

"Not until I met you." Rolan closed his book and turned his attention to me.

"Su'riel, you confuse me entirely. This is why I chose to write about you in my journal. I cannot make sense of you. If you are not threatening me with grievous injury, you are nearly throwing yourself at me. The first night I believed it was because you wanted to steal this." He motioned to the journal, "but in the past few days it seems like you do have feelings for me, deep down. Of course, when you are not oscillating between psychotic episodes and near romantic liaisons you are causing some form of general destruction and mayhem all around you."

That was a lot of words, and I was exhausted from lack of sleep to make sense of all of them. "Rolan, I'm too tired to explain to you right now how this is just as much your fault, if not more so, as mine. So what we're going to do is this: I'm going to meditate and we'll resume this conversation later." I began to fold my legs under me.

"Su'riel, one last thing, you should know that I have never thought of a woman as particularly attractive until I laid eyes on you; since that moment, I have not been able to take my eyes off of you." That was exactly what I needed to hear, why did he have to say all of that other stuff first?

I reached over and pulled him by his collar into a slow and passionate kiss; probably the best kiss I had ever given anyone. When I was certain that he would long remember this reward for saying the right thing, and before I let things go too far I pulled back from him, but kept our foreheads in contact.

"Now, my dear Rolan, I'm going to meditate. And you should think about what you just said for the next four hours, especially if you want more romance, and fewer psychotic episodes of violence."


	8. Chapter 6: Rolan - The Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang returns to the cave and finally discovers whats inside those treasure chests. Rolan and Su'riel enjoy a stroll and a chat under the moonlight. Su'riel shares the story of her past with Rolan.

Su'riel sat next to me in her trance, the kiss she had just given me was completely different than the kiss we shared in the alley on the night I destroyed the Flaming Dragon. I did want to speak more to her about our relationship. What was even more, I wanted another kiss like that.

Earlier today, when she had inspected my bandaged arm and had danced and spun around, I wanted to hold her. But I never fully know when Su'riel is trying to get close for her own agenda, about to threaten harm, or truly desires intimacy. Beyor’s presence made things awkward as well. I was starting to suspect that she hated Beyor.

I made a few notes in my personal journal, which truly was not a scientific pursuit but rather me recording my thoughts regarding Su'riel. I had planned to use it to annotate my journey to the infernal machine, but Su'riel distracted me from my scholarly pursuits. I wondered if this is why my uncle did not have a wife. I looked over at Su'riel again, her graceful form gently rising and falling with each breath. I caressed her cheek and reflected that perhaps distraction and moderation indeed had a place in a scholar’s life. I watched her for a few more minutes in the candlelight, then I decided to cover her in my traveling cloak.

My cloak had now suffered much damage. Aside from the cut in the left side it had also been badly blood stained. There were now numerous rips, stains, and tears; still, it was precious to me. 

I returned to my studies and before long I heard a door open and close and Beyor’s laugh filled the tavern. Su'riel woke up with a start.

“I hate that laugh” she grumbled under her breath.

I reached over and rubbed her back gently. She looked over at me and flashed that smile of hers smile that lights up the room.

“Are you better rested now?” I inquired.

She stretched and yawned. As the cloak began to slip off her shoulders, she suddenly noticed it was there, and caught it. She then assumed a more conventional sitting position and wrapped the cloak more securely around her. 

“I am better rested, thank you.”

Beyor and Brunnie came stomping down the stairs sharing coy smiles and laughing. Su'riel inspected the sword we had taken from Poison.

“Do you want to carry this?” she asked me.

It was a fine longsword. I had been trained in swordsmanship as a youth, but it had been decades since I had picked one up. The idea did appeal to me though. 

“Yes, please.”

Brunnie moved about the Tavern opening the main door and un-shuttering the windows. It wasn’t long before people began filing in. 

Beyor walked over, “What have you two been up to?”

“Meditating,” Su'riel answered immediately.

“Reading,” I quickly added, following her lead.

“Oh? What happened? You decided not to make sure that Rolan was fully recovered.”

He wiggled his eyebrows when he said “recovered”, which seemed unnecessary as we all understood precisely what he was alluding too.

“No. There was this strange sound of livestock moving furniture around that just killed the mood for me.”

Beyor laughed, and looked over at Brunnie, “She certainly is stout, isn’t she? Are you jealous?”

“Only of the carpenter that was paid to reinforce the floors in this place. That man must have made a fortune.” 

Beyor laughed again and walked back over to the bar to talk to Brunnie. 

I could never figure out why Beyor insisted on tormenting Su'riel. It was clear that the man had a very different taste in women, but he seemed to enjoy insulting her and then hearing her equally offensive responses. No matter how cruel or threatening her responses, he always seemed to laugh it off.

Soon Scotty and Joy returned. Scotty had brought with him a bag of holding. I had heard of such things, but had never seen one. It was clearly imbued with strong magic. 

Scotty pulled a few random items out and I was impressed. He told me these were once common items, but had since become hard to acquire. His was apparently a family heirloom.

Joy had also brought cookies which she insisted I take the majority of them. I would later learn that my gesture to give her an equal share in the treasure was something that had never happened to her, and something Scotty had never tried when he bargained for work. Both of them had decided this was beneficial and something that they would do in the future.

When Beyor heard that the price of our thief had gone from 20% to 50% then back to 40%, I had to explain that I felt that Scotty knew more about the magic chests than he was letting on, and our experiences implied they were equally dangerous and likely strong magical artifacts. Therefore the 40% was a relative bargain. Ultimately though Su'riel seemed more interested in having the content of her “kin’s” chest all to herself, and Beyor was sad that Scotty got the remainder of the clear liquor.

When we returned to the cave, the magic chests did prove a challenge to Scotty. The time for the evening meal approached before he was able to get both chests open. One contained the personal effects of several murdered travelers. Su'riel took a ring, a leather book, several scrolls and a flute. The flute was most curious because it did not play. Su'riel took these items to another corner of the cave and examined them herself.

The rest of the chest’s contents did not interest her, and truthfully, no one was sure what to do with the items, as they had limited value and should be returned to the families of the lost travelers; however, there was no way for us to know who that might be. The other chest contained several thousand gold coins, and jewels. Scotty also opened the middle chest and found a ruby the size of my fist, but nothing else. 

We carefully explored the rest of the cave and found more food, some clothes, weapons and armor but no more traps. We worked out everyone’s share and then loaded whatever we couldn’t carry into Scotty’s bag of holding.

About this time, Su'riel revealed that members of her kin had been on a quest to investigate a report of some necromancers in a ruined keep about three days journey east of Daggerford. She stated that she would appreciate the help of anyone, even Beyor, who wanted to come with her.

I was surprised when all three agreed to her request. Beyor stated he had nothing better to do, and Scotty and Joy indicated that they had been looking to leave Daggerford and this was as good an opportunity as any. We agreed to stay in the cave that night and leave at first light. 

After dinner, we sat around the campfire. Joy was singing a ballad about a halfling hero that traveled with dwarves to steal a dragon’s treasure, and Scotty and Beyor were passing bottles of the clear liquor back and forth. Su'riel grabbed a bottle of wine, took me by the hand and led me outside.

“It’s a beautiful night, Rolan, too beautiful to spend it all in a cave,” she whispered as we slipped outside.

The night air was cool and refreshing. We walked a little way to the top of a grassy hill with a single tree that looked over the river. The lights of Daggerford twinkled a few miles away. We sat down on the grass and I leaned against the tree as we looked down toward the town.

I was curious where this was headed, I wanted to resume where we were in the tavern before she started meditating. But I suspected that was more a promise of things to come; it was, perhaps, too soon for anything more.

She opened the wine, took a drink and passed the bottle to me, but did not say anything for a time. This actually troubled me more than anything else, because Su'riel was quick witted and impulsive. The idea of a thoughtful introspective Su'riel had never occurred to me.

“Can I trust you Rolan, I mean really, truly trust you?”

“You have saved my life, insisted on traveling with me as I complete my uncle’s work, and are currently blackmailing me with the threat of writing a song about my prowess in hair braiding. If you cannot trust me, I have no idea whom you could trust.”

She smiled and the moon seemed dim in comparison. Then she put my arm around her shoulders, and slipped her arm around my waist as she slid closer to me. 

With a tone of mock hurt, she replied, “Blackmail is such dirty word, I like to think to think that you lost a bargain.”

“You mean I was offered a bargain with no advantageous outcome.”

“Oh? Is being allowed to daily touch my luxurious long black locks, and be near me not advantageous?” 

“I suppose there is some small advantage to our arrangement,” I attempted to tease her back, though truthfully, I did enjoy the intimacy of braiding her hair and I believed she had more than just a practical appreciation of our arrangement. 

I leaned my head over, hoping for another chance at greater intimacy, when she stood up.

“Well, if you would rather, I will go back to brushing my own hair.”

As she stood she undid her hair and let her long beautiful hair fall like a curtain. It glistened and shimmered blue and black in the moonlight. I also thought I caught a scent of some exotic mountain flowers. She produced her hair brush from one of the pockets in her robe and then sat down in front of me, and began to brush out her hair.”

“Su'riel, let me have the brush.”

“No. Not if there is only a small advantage to our arrangement.”

“Su'riel, brushing your hair is…it is a bargain in itself.”

“Say that you would bargain with me for the pleasure of brushing my hair.”

“I would gladly bargain with you for the pleasure of brushing your hair.”

She looked over her shoulder with her eyes twinkling, “Oh? And what would you give me?”

How did I fall for this trick?

“Well, it is a pleasure of such immeasurable value, that…that I cannot think of what to offer you.”

She gave me another coy look as she put the brush into my hand, “Then I will allow you to brush my hair for now, and later, then I will tell you what you owe me for this pleasure.” 

She turned back around, and I began to brush her hair wondering if I would ever understand Su'riel.

“Rolan, I thought about what you said. How I confuse you; how you thought I was seeking to steal your uncle’s journal; how I threaten to hurt you half the time, and the other half of the time I’m surprising you with affection. I even thought about the things you didn’t say: how I constantly keep you at a disadvantage; how I underestimate you; how I’m keeping a secret from you. And I thought if I was honest with you, maybe these things would be less confusing, but I have to know if I can trust you.”

“Su'riel, I admit it has only been five days since we met, but I believe I have not given you any reason to question my fidelity.”

“Oh Rolan, it is more than that, or maybe it isn’t. However, I have to tell you, you put up with my poor behavior better than anyone. Most men that I threaten either run away or threaten back.”

“or laugh,” I interjected.

“Don’t interrupt and don’t bring HIM into this.” 

She paused for a moment, and took a long drink from the bottle, “but you, Rolan, you generally seem to ignore what I say and, as best you can, you hear me. You’ve apologized when I’ve threatened to hurt you; you’ve reminded me why I need to not hurt others when I’ve threatened them. You seem to understand me in your own naive way of not understanding women. But I need you to tell me that I can trust you.”

“Su'riel, you can trust me.”

I had finished braiding her hair and I lowered my hands back down to the ground by my side.

“Thank you Rolan, that is what I needed to hear.” 

She reached back and grabbed my arms and pulled them around her waist, and laid her back on my chest resting her head directly below mine, the scent of wildflowers filled my nose. 

“Don’t get used to this, but we’ve been through a lot lately and I think we both deserve a little more closeness than usual tonight.” 

Su'riel had a strange way of maintaining what she had just referred to as “keeping me at a disadvantage”. 

I could not figure out what was appropriate or inappropriate contact; somehow, I had to find a way to understand her better so that I was at less of a disadvantage.

Su'riel intertwined the fingers of her right hand with mine while she toyed with her braid with her other hand and continued, “I never really told you about my childhood. I was the only daughter of Andras and Lianthe An'harel. I grew up in Evereska in a house full of love, and art and music. My parents loved me more than life itself; I was their great pride and joy, and they were amazingly talented artists. Each night, my mother would brush my hair, and braid it, and then in the morning she would tress it up with bits of her silver jewelry that she couldn’t use or hadn’t found a place for. This is why I love it when you brush and braid my hair, Rolan, it’s reminds me of love and security and knowing that I’m cared for, and it takes away some of the pain of loss.”

For a moment I considered saying something about how I thought it was because she did not like to do it herself, but that seemed inappropriate. Further, before I could interject she continued her story.

“Every year we would journey to some of the nearby human villages to sell my parent’s creations. My father would paint beautiful paintings, clay jars and other items; and my mother would make the most desirable jewelry. 

“One year, we set up our booth across from the most amazing bard. She could sing and dance, and tell the most entertaining stories. People came from all over to see her. My father said that every man, except him, desired her, and every woman wanted to be her. I wanted to be her. 

“She could make the crowds laugh or cry on a whim. A thief tried to steal her coins and simply by changing her song the whole crowd forced him back to where she was and he returned her money and gave her all that he had, then he turned himself into the town guard that happened to be there watching the bard. 

“After a few days of watching her, I knew that I had to be a bard. When I told my parents, they approached her on my behalf; and for the remainder of our time in that town, I was her young associate. She taught me a few dances, how to drum, as well as play the recorder.”

“Like you taught the farmer’s daughter?”

“Well, I was a better student, and she might have been a better teacher, but yes. Exactly. Within a few seasons, I was apprenticed to a family friend in Evereska and I started my bard training in earnest. 

“My parents were so proud; they loved and encouraged me so much. The year we were across from the Bard we had the best sales, and so my parents often spoke of how we would travel together and I would draw a crowd like that, and the family would benefit greatly. My parents even decorated my instruments.”

Su'riel produced her flute and I could see the intricate designs of flowers and other flourishes, that I assumed her mother must have engraved into it.

“This is wonderful work Su'riel, I am very impressed, and when we return to the cave you will have to show me the work they did on your lute.”

I suddenly felt bad that I had never noticed anything special painted on her lute; however, if I had offended her, Su'riel made no mention of it, rather she continued her story.

“Then, when I was 95, my parents traveled alone to the cities to sell their art. I could have been there with them, but I preferred to stay with my apprenticeship. Truthfully, there was a boy who was a fellow apprentice and I thought that he liked me. It turned out he actually liked another girl, and was using me to make her jealous. The whole thing was stupid and childish, but it kept me in Evereska.”

“I never really had anything like that in my adolescence, but it sounds particularly cruel.”

“Yes it was, and, to add insult to injury, he liked the other girl because she had bigger breasts.” 

This comment made me wonder if this was not part of the reason why Su'riel responds to Beyor with such ruthlessness. 

“The joke was on him though as she was pregnant with another man’s child, and I watched the whole sordid affair from a safe distance. He thought the child was his so he dropped out of the apprenticeship to support her and the child. When he learned the truth he left her, and tried to re-enter the apprenticeship but our Master wouldn’t allow it. By that time he had replaced him with a new apprentice. 

“As I stayed in Evereska to be part of this puppy-love drama, my parents were murdered on the road by highwaymen. I was absolutely heart-broken; the two people I loved most, my future plans, everything I thought I knew or understood was gone, and I knew if I had been there things could have been different.”

“But that was not your fault. You should not blame yourself,” I held her a little tighter.

“I know but when you have been negligent and foolish, for the most petty of reasons you can’t help but blame yourself.” 

I felt a hot tear strike my hand, and I continued held her close. She cried quietly for a few moments. I untangled my left arm and offered her my handkerchief to her dry her tears, which she gladly accepted.

“Rolan, do you think I’m weak for crying,” she hoarsely whispered between sobs.

“No. There is no weakness in mourning the loss of those that we love, and yesterday I saw you brilliantly defend yourself against three highwaymen.”

“Thank you,” She whispered, after a few deep breaths and continued, “From that day on I vowed if I ever encountered highwaymen or bandits I would kill them. No child should ever have to bear that pain. Unfortunately, I really didn’t know how. So after I completed the apprenticeship I decided to go to Waterdeep and make a name for myself. I don’t know why I chose Waterdeep. I just knew that I had to get out of Evereska because everything reminded me of my parents, and Waterdeep was the first major town I found myself in.

“I played on a few corners, earned a few coins, eventually I was able to convince the owner of the Flaming Dragon to let me play there. I brought in enough business on my first night that he let me stay on and gave me a pretty fair deal to use his stage. He usually gave me whatever food was left over at the end of the night.”

“That food was terrible and should not be part of any compensation package.”

“When you’re starving like I was, it seemed like a good deal. Anyways, one night as I was leaving there was a man waiting for me outside the tavern, he motioned me to come over and when I got close he grabbed my coin purse, pushed me down and ran. I was stupid and hot-headed so I chased him into a back alley where his friend grabbed me from behind. My master had taught me a few self-defense moves, so I kicked his friend with both feet, and then stomped on the foot of the one that held me from behind. When he let me go, his friend charged me with a knife, so I spun to the side like in a graceful dance, but tripped him as he got close. It wasn’t my intent, but he fell on his knife. When the other thief came at me I kicked him as hard as I could between the legs.

“I turned to run out of the alley and saw two more men standing at the entrance. I had no idea what to do about them. They started walking toward me and I crouched down ready to give them the fight of my life, but they walked past me. One of the men looked like a priest, and the other was dressed in leather and looked like he was always ready to fight. 

“I turned and watched as the priest grabbed the man I had kicked and pinned him to the wall. The fighter rolled over the man I had tripped and told the priest he was dead. Then the fighter went through his pockets kept a few items and tossed him in a pile of garbage. The fighter walked up to the priest with the dead man’s dagger. Then they had a short conversation with him. The thief spit at the fighter and the fighter head butted him and he fell to the ground unconscious. The priest said something about the Church and the fighter put the thief on his shoulders and disappeared down the dark alley.

“Then the priest walked up to me, called me ‘daughter’, and asked me to join him. I followed him to the church and he explained his name was Bishop Darrius, and he was a Harper. The men that had attacked me were part of a larger guild of thieves, and Darrius could use my help to force the thieves out of Waterdeep. Darrius told me the Harpers were committed to fighting evil and helping the poor and disadvantaged. I knew this was what I wanted, and even though I couldn’t bring back my parents, I could help the Harpers make the world a safer place.

“Darrius told me that they had been considering approaching me before, but after Darrius, and Ken, the fighter, saw me defend myself they knew that with a little training I would be perfect for the Harpers. 

“Darrius became a second father to me and the harpers trained me to be one of their agents. I learned better ways to defend myself, as well as a lot of basic survival and first aid. Darius operated the Harpers cell in Waterdeep out of the basement of the church. I would gather information at the Flaming Dragon or they would use me to get close to men, or to convince them to walk into traps the Harpers had laid. 

“For about 20 years now I’ve been working with the Harpers in and around Waterdeep, we disbanded the thieves guild, rooted out a cabal of necromancers and generally kept the town safe. A few days ago, they assigned me to go to Calim desert and investigate the infernal machine. 

“Then, on my last night in town, I met you. When I saw you for the first time I thought you were a strange scholar that had never seen the world outside of your hometown. When you mentioned the infernal machine, suddenly you were the strange little scholar that might have information I needed to complete my mission. I didn’t want to steal your journal, exactly, but I did want to know if it was something I could decipher without you.”

“Well lucky for me, it seems you concluded you could not.”

“Oh! It’s lucky for me too Rolan, you are worth far more than that old journal, even worth more to me than your abilities as a wizard.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, you can braid hair. And that is a skill that is of immeasurable worth.”

She sat up a little and turned and looked at me and flashed me her amazing smile. She laid back against me, and concluded her story. 

“So Rolan, my dear, I tell you all this because I want your help, and it isn’t my intent to keep you guessing or confused. And I want you to know that I’ve been hurt a little, I’ve been trained to be a little violent. You need to keep doing what you are doing though, be patient with me, and listen to what I mean, not what I say.”

“Anything else”?

“Yes, feel free to hold my hand from time to time, I enjoyed that”.

“As you wish, anything else”?

“No, you should just be quiet and enjoy the moment.”

That was a simple thing to comply with. After a few moments Su'riel spoke again. “Oh! And you should say more things like you did at the tavern, like how you never thought of women as attractive until you laid your eyes on me, and now you can’t take your eyes off of me.”

“As you wish, anything else?”

“No you really should just be quiet and hold the object of your obsession and your personal definition beauty for as long she’ll let you.”

“I would love nothing more.” I squeezed her tighter and she let out a contented sigh. I had resigned myself that there would be nothing more, but this was enough, at least for now.

“Good, now be quiet before you ruin things.”


	9. Chapter 7: Rolan - The Ranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rolan and Su'riel find themselves hunted by yet another group of bounty hunters. Help arrives from an unexpected source.

As I reflected on everything Su'riel had just said and I realized that “her kin” were probably the Harpers, I heard a mechanical animal trap snap shut. This was quickly followed by the mournful howl of a wolf. Su’riel and I looked at each other waiting for the responding howl. After a few moments there was no response.

“Do you think the highwaymen set traps?”

“We did not see any other traps or animal pelts in the cave. Further, wolves travel in packs and there has been no response from its pack mates.”

“There is a bounty on our heads, we should probably investigate,” Su'riel said in a very disappointed voice. I too was disappointed to leave that moment; however, I did not want to be caught off guard should Poison find us.

The sound of the trap came from below the hill somewhere in a gloomy patch of woods. We quickly hurried in the direction of the trap. Before long we saw a large beautiful wolf with its back leg stuck in a trap. I tried to approach, but it growled at me.

“Do you think you could charm the wolf, or put it to sleep.”

Su'riel pulled out her flute again. She began to play a strange mournful song. Soon the wolf sat, put its head down and blinked slowly. I carefully approached and stood on the trap in order to release it. The wolf was a little drowsy but it quickly figured out it was free. It limped up to Su'riel. I joined her and scratched the wolf behind the ears. The wolf sniffed my robe pocket and looked up at me expectantly. I thought this was strange, so I reached into the pocket and found an apple I had taken from the cave earlier that day. The wolf snatched the apple from my hand and began to chew on it as Su'riel began to sing a melody of healing words over the animal. It seemed to help the wound, but the wolf took no notice of the spell. I was about to comment to Su'riel that we had a new traveling companion when a strange sound came from the bushes and the wolf immediately left the apple, growled and ran at the bushes.

This was immediately followed strange growl and cursing from the bushes. As we were about to investigate, an arrow flew over my shoulder and another flew from somewhere behind Su'riel. There was more crashing in the bushes as the wolf ran off and suddenly Su'riel and I were surrounded by five tieflings. Su'riel and I were back to back, and she drew Poison’s sword from my belt while I raised my hand to show that I was ready for spellcasting.

A tall tiefling approached us, Su'riel looked over her shoulder, and cursed under her breath.

“So you do recognize me Bard? You flatter me. I would have assumed that a woman that would use a table full of tieflings to get out of a bad date wouldn’t recognize her champions. I would like to say though that my name is Adron, not ‘son of a bitch’.” 

The group of tieflings had formed a loose circle around us and as their leader spoke they drew in closer.

“Look, I admit I said something insensitive, but it wasn’t personal.”

“We know, and had it been our sisters or daughters we would have hoped they would have used the same ingenuity. However, you and your companion left a beloved tavern in poor shape and its patrons demand justice. They have offered a pretty substantial reward to see you brought back. So, as you say, this isn’t personal.” 

Now that we were surrounded the two archers kept back a few feet, but they were close enough to block us from running and they had their bows drawn and their arrows pointed straight at us.

“Now put down your sword and come along quietly. Your friends in the cave are too far away, no one can-“ The wolf suddenly came running back and in a gray blur the man to the left of the Adron was down on the ground, again cursing and trying to fight off the snarling mass of fur, teeth and claws. The tiefling to Adron’s right suddenly crumbled to the ground and behind him stood a woman with a long sword. She had one foot on the face of the tiefling she had somehow just knocked to the ground and had her sword resting on Adron’s shoulder with the blade dangerously pressed against his neck.

Su'riel’s archer waivered for a moment between her and the tall woman and Su'riel took the opportunity to bat the archers bow away from her and put the sword against his neck. When I saw what she was doing, I cast magehand to take my archer’s arrow and before he realized what had happened I closed the distance between us and had the arrow pressed against his neck.

A very calm but slow voice came from the woman as she spoke to Adron, “Tiefling why are you in my woods?”

“These two are wanted in Waterdeep, we are here to collect them and take them back.”

“Why”?

“For a bounty.”

“No. Why are they wanted”?

“The bard instigated a bar fight, and the wizard destroyed the bar during the fight.”

“These two have helped man and beast in these woods, and fought thieves,” she paused like she was thinking, “I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you like, but my brothers and I will not leave till we have our bounty.”

“Leave.”

Adron looked around at his fellows. He recognized he was clearly at a disadvantage. 

“We will leave, but bard, wizard, we will meet again. Next time, I dare say you will not be so lucky.” 

I handed the tiefling back his arrow and in a few moments they had all disappeared. We were left with the woman and her wolf.

“Hello. My name is Rolan and this is Su'riel, we very much appreciate your assistance.”

She stared at me for a moment and then said, “You’re welcome.” 

Her wolf walked over to us, sniffed around the ground and found her apple, and began to chew on it again.

“Might I inquire as to what your name is?”

The woman took a moment before answering, “Sylvanna.”

She had no discernable accent, but she always spoke in a very clear deliberate matter.

Su'riel suddenly spoke up, “Sylvanna, you said these were your woods, how well do you know them?”

“Very well.”

“Good. I may need your help, but I would prefer we spoke at our camp. I worry about the tieflings returning.”

Sylvanna looked about her for a moment, as did her wolf. The wolf sniffed the air and then Sylvanna and the wolf exchanged looks. Then she looked back at Su'riel, “They are gone.”

“All the same I’d rather be back in the camp, perhaps we could give you some food, or drink.”

“We have more apples” I added. The wolf looked over at me when I said apples. 

“Oh, you like apples?” I said to the wolf.

“She is Dhalia, and she does like apples.”

“Will you join us?” Su'riel asked.

With a simple nod she began to lead the way the way to our cave. Dhalia finished her apple and followed behind with her tail wagging.

As we approached the cave Sylvanna stopped, and turned to us, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome” Su'riel replied half confused.

“You didn’t have to free Dhalia, or mend her wounds or feed her.” Sylvanna paused, and I was suspecting she did not normally speak for this length of time “I appreciate your kindness.”

As we got nearer to the cave, we heard the sounds of breaking glass, obscenities, and Beyor’s laugh. I rushed in half expecting to find that the tieflings had found our friends only to discover that our friends had instead decided to set up a shooting range in order to teach Joy how to operate a light crossbow that they had found among the bandit’s store. Scotty explained that Joy felt, since she had received an equal share, that she should be ready to participate in any combat we might find ourselves in. So they had concluded the best weapon for her was the crossbow. However, she had no idea how to properly employ the weapon so they were doing their best to teach her.

It was evident that neither Scotty nor Beyor knew how to use the weapon either. Also, Beyor had two crossbow bolts in his arm. When I inquired about this, he and Scotty had an argument about how Beyor had thought that Scotty would have been a better shot. Scotty then stated that he did not believe Beyor was crazy enough to hold the target. Scotty began to explain how he had either drank too little or too much and that is why he was not an accurate shot at the moment. When Su'riel walked in, Beyor showed her his arm and demanded that she cure his wound and stated that he expected the same level of care and attention that I had received. Su'riel told him that if she removed the bolts she was going to shove them “where the sun doesn’t shine”. Beyor began to laugh and made some comment about how with her small hands he would never feel it.

Sylvanna walked into the cave, she looked around and asked me, “Are they drunk or insane?”

Before I could explain how they were drunk, but their behavior, when sober, was little better, Beyor stopped laughing and looked over at Sylvanna and bellowed, “ROLAN! SU’RIEL! YOU BROUGHT ATHENA THE WAR GODDESS TO ME!” 

He then ran up to her.

This was the first time I had a chance to look at Sylvanna in the light. She was a fairly tall human, just a few inches shorter than Beyor. She had red hair that was neatly braided and coiled, and her skin was tanned and she had a few freckles. Sylvanna wore a mix of leather and animal skins with a metal breastplate and a skirt that had strips of leather and metal plate. She was also carrying a longsword and a long bow with a quiver of arrows. Although she was clearly a ranger, I could see why someone like Beyor might mistake her for a war goddess.

She looked at Beyor and stated, “You have bolts in your arm.”

He looked down in surprise, pulled them both out and threw them across the room.

“There my war goddess, it was a simple flesh wound, and I assure you they will not hurt my performance.”

“I am not a goddess”

“If I treated you like one, would you bear my children?”

Without a moment of hesitation she headbutted him so hard he fell to the ground unconscious. I looked over at Su'riel who had a highly amused look on her face.

Scotty turned to Joy and asked her, “If ah treated ye’ like a gawdess, would ye bare mah children.”

“’ow ‘ould ye know, ‘ow to treat a gawdess”?

“ah don’t but ah do know how to make children”.

Joy giggled and then hit Scotty a few times, “oh not in front o’ the others” They then grabbed the last bottle of the clear liquor and left the cave.

I checked on Beyor, he was alive, but between the alcohol and the blow to his head he would likely be out for hours. With some effort, I managed to drag him over to his bed roll while Sylvanna and Su'riel were in the corner eating bread as Su'riel explained where she wanted to go. Sylvanna agreed to take us to the keep as she had heard from other Rangers in the area that there was something evil had been festering around the old keep. Actually Sylvanna never said much, but everything she did say was exact and carefully worded. 

Dhalia curled up at Sylvanna’s feet. When I went to the apple barrel and pulled out an apple, Dhalia’s head swung up. I grabbed a second apple for her walked over to give to her. Her tail thumped the floor rhythmically as I approached. Sylvanna watched me and when I gave the wolf the apple she thanked me and then turned back to Su'riel. I told Su'riel I was going to meditate for a few hours and to wake me when she needed me to watch. She squeezed my hand, smiled said thanks. I sat down next to the fire and realized that my traveling cloak was missing. I eventually found it pinned to the wall with crossbow bolts, it now had multiple holes and tears from the archery lesson. I wanted to say something but Joy and Scotty were still conspicuously absent, and Beyor would be unable to talk for hours. With nothing left to say or do I soon was in a trance.


	10. Chapter 8: Su'riel - The Brawl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beyor is completely smitten with Sylvanna but Sylvanna is not impressed. Rolan tries to help but ends up in a brawl with Beyor over Su'riel's honor.

Rolan was brushing my hair, which always puts me in a good mood, but as I thought about yesterday, I couldn't help but feel elated. I think yesterday had been one of the best days I'd had in a long time. Rolan and I had a long talk about our relationship. We didn't set any clear boundaries but we got a few things straightened out. And I have to admit Rolan is, well, he has turned out not to be the mama's boy I thought he was. We met a ranger and when we brought her back to camp, she laid Beyor out flat. I glanced at Sylvanna, who was watching us. That was a little strange. Honestly, Sylvanna is a little strange; she barely speaks, she stares, never smiles but she seems to know her way around the woods and she is good in a fight. Best of all, where I normally threaten Beyor, she just headbutted him. Yesterday was like my birthday.

We were all still in the cave, but we would be leaving soon. When Scotty and Joy slipped in before I woke Rolan, they looked a little sheepish, but Sylvanna and I politely ignored them. Now they were starting to stir. Joy had managed to get the fire going again and had put the tea kettle on.

With a heavy groan Beyor sat up. He looked over at Scotty and said, "Scotty, you won't believe the dream I had. I thought Rolan and Su'riel had left the cave to finally go make love, but instead they brought back Athena the war goddess. She was tall and beautiful, and her breasts were this big!"

He made a crude gesture with his hands like he was holding two large summer melons in front of his chest.

"She was like the woman of my dreams."

"aye, then what 'appened?"

"I think she kissed me with a powerful war goddess kiss, and I became the greatest warrior ever."

"well maybe ye can ask for anoth'ah of tho' kisses, cause she's right there," Scotty nodded in Sylvanna's direction. Sylvanna stared at Beyor for a long moment and I wasn't sure what was going to happen. Normally this is where Beyor would laugh, but he just stared back at her.

"Woman, did we meet last night or was that a dream?"

"We met. It was no dream."

"What did I say to you?"

"You asked if I would bear your children."

Beyor laughed that terrible laugh, "That sounds like me. And what did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"She knocked ye on yer ass," Scotty chimed in.

Beyor laughed, "So that was the powerful warrior goddess kiss."

Sylvanna stared at him as she braided her hair. Beyor laughed and asked, "So you've had all night to think about my offer, have you reconsidered."

"No."

"No? 'No' to what? My offer or 'no' to reconsidering."

"No."

"Oh, why not."

"Your laugh scares away game."

"What?"

"For miles around, there is no game because of you."

"What does that have to with anything?"

"I won't be bound to a man who can't hunt."

"I can hunt."

Sylvanna just stared at him. Beyor started to laugh then caught himself, "Woman, I'm going to have you begging to be my wife."

"How?"

"What?"

"You don't even know my name."

Beyor looked like he had eaten something poisonous. He looked over at Scotty.

"Uh, 'ah dinna catch her name. I tried the same 'treat ye like a gawdess' line on me mate 'ere, and it worked for me. Ah think ye musta said it wrong. 'Tis a powerful thing to say I reck'n."

Beyor looked over at Rolan who said, "You should ask her yourself."

Good job Rolan. I didn't want to have to savagely elbow him.

Beyor looked over at Sylvanna, who was still staring at him, and took in a deep breath,

"What is your name?"

"Sylvanna."

Beyor nodded, "Sylvanna, good. My name is Beyor."

"I don't care."

It was like my birthday had been stretched another day, now all I needed was for Sylvanna to keep Beyor from laughing and generally captivate his attention, while frustrating him. Then, if Rolan could throw a few well-placed compliments my way, this day would be even better than yesterday.

"There you are Su'riel, your braid is just the way you like it. You look beautiful today, by the way; you seem to be practically glowing," Rolan said into my ear, almost on cue.

I thanked Rolan, we ate a quiet breakfast and soon we were moving through the woods. The quietness continued on into the morning journey. Rolan even held my hand for a while as we were traveling through some of the easier terrain. It seemed childish, but it brought a strange amount of joy to me.

Beyor was quiet for the day, and most of the next. Everyone noticed, but I didn't care. I was happy to not hear that terrible laugh, and Sylvanna seemed to prefer we move through the woods as quietly as possible. Camp on the first night was quiet, Joy and I sang a few songs but it didn't seem to lift any spirits. Beyor said a few more dumb things to Sylvanna and she just stared at him and gave him her usual curt rejections. Even Rolan seemed a little subdued, but he was still holding my hand, giving me the occasional compliment and braiding my hair, so I had little to complain about.

On the second day, sometime in the late afternoon, we stopped by a small river. I took advantage of the stop to take off my boots and soak my feet in the cool river water, it was a glorious and relaxing sensation. Joy lost no time in joining me, and, surprisingly, so did Sylvanna.

When I gave her a questioning look she simply stated, "It is good to care for your feet."

Rolan, Scotty and Beyor stood several feet away from us downstream. Rolan was refilling his and my water skin and Scotty was watching the fishes and had mentioned something about how it might be good to catch a few for dinner. Dhalia was standing with them staring at the water and she seemed to share Scotty's idea. Beyor was still silent, which was great for me, but I think this compelled Rolan to try and help him in characteristic 'Rolan fashion'.

"Beyor, perhaps your approach with Sylvanna is all wrong. She is not like that beast of a woman you had carnal relations with at the tavern in Daggerford."

Rolan didn't know this but Sylvanna was now staring at him.

"That woman clearly had never received attention from a desirable man, but Sylvanna is different in many ways. You should consider trying to build a rapport with her, rather than your normal barbarian way of demanding exactly what you want up front."

"Spoken like a wizard, 'lets try some backwards indirect way to maybe get something'."

Beyor normally said some outrageous and crude things, but his tone had a harder edge to it now, "Rolan, have you had 'carnal relations' with that skinny little slip of a girl that badgers you and makes you braid her hair like you were her sister? No. You haven't. Well, when she finally decides that you can touch her in a 'carnal' way you can come talk to me about the best way to bed a woman; until then, I suggest you look for a woman with some curves and less attitude. You and me will both be happier when you do."

I was about to say something when Joy grabbed my arm and spoke under her breath, "Ye got to let the boys 'ave it out, if ye interfere 'twould only make mattahs worse."

I knew she was right, but Rolan usually lets me respond to Beyor and then Beyor laughs it off, but this seemed different. Then to make matters worse Scotty joined in.

"'ah right, I see an opportunity 'ere, boyo's. this is the opportunity, which one 'oh ye thinks 'e'll bed 'is girl first? Rolan? Beyor?"

"I am not interested," Rolan said, blushing.

Normally I would be glad that Rolan wouldn't stoop to such a stupid bet, but I was so angry at Beyor that if Rolan had taken the wager, I might have walked up right then and there just to let him win the bet out of spite for Beyor. Not really a good reason for our first time, but Beyor elicited these sort of responses in me.

"What are the odds?" Beyor said loudly, " Nevermind, I'll win. Here's two gold coins that I'll have Sylvanna screaming my name before Rolan can figure out how to take Su'riel's bra off. Of course, her having a bra means she'll have grown-"

"That is enough Beyor!" Rolan bellowed.

I had never seen him angry, he had that look he did at the Tavern, dangerous and powerful. Several times when Beyor insulted me I had wished Rolan would have responded, but it never occurred to me until now that it just might get him killed.

I started to stand up and Sylvanna was suddenly next to me and she put her hand on my shoulder, firmly pushing me back down. "Joy is right, they must fight."

Beyor laughed, and I wished to the gods that these woman would let me go.

"I like you Rolan, but sometimes you talk and it just bores me, and you have to admit Su'riel is a mouthy little bi-" Rolan punched Beyor across the chin. It didn't hurt him, but it shut him up for a moment.

"Alright Rolan, looks like it's my turn to give you a few lessons, and here is lesson one," He punched him hard in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, then when Rolan crumpled to the ground Beyor started to pace around with his fists balled ready for Rolan to try and stand. Dahlia barked, and Scotty tried to get between the two of them, but Beyor just pushed him out of the way, after the second time Scotty just stood out of the way. Dahlia continued to prance and bark but it didn't stop Beyor.

"Now, like I was saying, Su'riel is a mouthy little bitch that just likes to string you along because she can."

Rolan tried to get up and Beyor put his foot on his back and pushed him back down. I realized that all his anger and pent up frustration from the last few days were being taken out on Rolan. I felt ashamed for my hand in causing this.

"See, Su'riel is a bard. They sing, they dance, they please men, Rolan. And for all your smarts you haven't realized that you aren't man enough to please her, so she keeps playing with you. And I'm telling you, get a better woman, because you deserve better than a whore that won't put out."

I tried to stand again and Sylvanna proved remarkably strong, with just her hand on my shoulder I was pinned. I was about to say something when Joy doubled her grip on my arm, "Ye'll only make it worse."

I knew Joy and Sylvanna were right, but by the gods I really wished they would release me. I needed to stop this before it went too far.

Rolan tried to stand again, and Beyor just reached down, scooped him up and shouted, "And here is lesson number two!" and he threw him into the water.

Rolan floated down stream for a ways, and I wasn't sure if he was conscious. I started to scream but covered my mouth. Beyor went splashing down the stream, yelling at Rolan about how he was sorry it had come to this, but he was going to beat some sense into him about how to find a woman and how to treat prostitutes.

I got my arm free from Joy's vice like grasp and I grabbed her by the collar and pulled her over to me so we were face to face, "Give me your damn crossbow, now."

"I should'na dare, ye'd kill 'im."

Joy was right, but I was pretty sure Beyor was about to kill Rolan. Sylvanna took her arm off of my shoulder and took down her bow and put an arrow in the string.

"If he tries to kill Rolan, I'll kill him," she said it so certainly I was partially relieved and partially terrified.

I looked back down stream, where Rolan was caught on some rocks. Beyor was still detailing all the nasty things he thought I was, but Rolan wasn't moving. Dahlia was pacing down the bank, barking at Beyor but he still ignored the wolf. Beyor got within a few feet of him when Rolan suddenly came to life and cast light. Somehow the reflection off the rocks and water blinded Beyor. Beyor stumbled around and slipped in the water. When he was down, Rolan got behind him and put his arms around him in a choke hold. Against all odds, Beyor was kneeling in the water with Rolan standing behind him with his arms threaded under Beyor's armpits and interlocked behind his head. Beyor tried to get Rolan off of him, but somehow Rolan managed to hold on in spite of the glancing blows, when he tried to stand Rolan knocked his feet back down.

Sylvanna replaced the arrow in the quiver and put her bow away. "Your mate has won," she told me.

I couldn't believe it, the fight didn't quite look finished but soon Beyor stopped punching Rolan and he slumped over, Rolan let him go, and leaned him onto his back.

A few moments later Beyor slowly staggered to his feet. I held my breath as I waited to see if Beyor was going to give Rolan lesson number three or concede that Rolan had bested him. Beyor laughed and flocks of birds from all over the woods took flight. Sylvanna just sighed and shook her head. I started breathing again as Beyor put his arm around Rolan's shoulders and started talking about the fight, admitting that Rolan won but only because he used magic. Then he conceded that he should have expected that because that is what happens when you fight wizards.

Joy stomped over to Scotty and even though I couldn't follow all the things she was saying, I was pretty sure she was telling him to never try and set up a wager like that again. Scotty looked like a child that had been caught by his mother doing something. The really strange thing was she wasn't hitting him like she normally does. Her face was red and she was speaking so fast I think only Scotty could understand her.

For a moment I panicked that my foolishness and Rolan and Beyor's fight would destroy our party. Joy and Scotty were in a heated conversation. Sylvanna looked annoyed but Rolan and Beyor were acting as if they didn't just nearly kill each other. I was so confused.


	11. Chapter 9: Su'riel - The Sisters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Su'riel and Rolan talk after the fight. Sylvanna wants Rolan to brush her hair but Su'riel puts her foot down.

Rolan and Beyor had waded back up the stream towards where the ladies were waiting; when they were close enough, I ran to Rolan. I felt a similar level of relief that felt a lot like the morning after he had passed out from loss of blood. I splashed out to the middle of the stream and hugged him right there. He had a black eye, and a stupid grin. As I hugged him, he winced a little.

"I know it was a stupid thing to do Su'riel, but I tried to defend your honor."

"It was a stupid thing to do, you should have never punched him. You're a wizard, you should have set him on fire."

Rolan laughed a little, winced again, and I started to help him out of the river. On the shore, Scotty was returning Beyor's gold coins and explaining how the bet was off, because it wasn't something gentlemen or friends should wager on. Joy still looked angry but she wasn't talking.

Then Sylvanna said, "It's a pity the wager is off, I wanted to bet on Rolan."

Beyor laughed, "Well sure, you could have just waited until they get around to doing their thing and then we could have our fun, easy money for you."

Rolan seemed to have made Beyor slightly less vulgar.

"No. You would never win. I don't scream."

Beyor laughed for a moment, stopped, then laughed again, "But you're saying I have a chance, just that you're not a screamer? Of course until you've been with me, you don't know what I can do to a woman."

And just like that, the magic of Rolan's enchanted choke hold was starting to fade.

"Rolan's chances are better."

Beyor looked confused, and I too was confused by what she meant. I think she was saying that mine and Rolan's chances of having sex before she ever considered letting that barbarian touch her were better. But that isn't what she said, she just said Rolan's chances were better. What did that mean? This was one of the frustrating things about the way Sylvanna spoke, she used so few words that sometimes it got confusing. She had also called Rolan my mate so perhaps I was jumping to conclusions. But I had a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach. Was Sylvanna interested in Rolan, is this the reason she rebuffed Beyor? No. Any woman that wasn't a cow behind a bar or a simpleton would rebuff Beyor. Right?

I tried to convince myself that I was blowing things out of proportion but the longer I thought about it, the worse I felt. I looked over at Rolan and he was feeding an apple to her damn wolf. I then looked back at Sylvanna; she was tall, beautiful, in a plain sort of way and Beyor was right, she did have breasts like summer melons. All the terrible things Beyor said about me being a slip of a girl and not having any curves came back to me.

I have curves dammit.

I looked down at myself and over at Sylvanna again. Everyone else was having some conversation about something I didn't care about but everyone was listening to her as she was pointing out the lands around them.

I suddenly felt very short and somehow inadequate. I was starting to feel like that girl in Evereska who lost her boyfriend because he found another girl more attractive. I went and put my boots back on, they gave me a little height but it didn't help much.

I needed to talk to Rolan.

I found him by himself on the shore, holding his water bottle to his black eye, "Ah Su'riel, I just cast cone of cold on my water bottle and I'm trying to get the swelling down. We all talked and decided to camp here for the night. Sylvanna says…"

When he said her name a flash of anger came over me and I really wasn't listening.

"We need to talk." That came out more angry than I wanted it too, "About some of the things Beyor has said."

I didn't want to mention Sylvanna.

"Very good, as you wish, I believe Beyor and Scotty are fishing and Joy and Sylvanna stated they were going to set up the camp. We should probably help but no one will miss us for a few minutes."

I took him by the hand and led him upstream. I didn't want to go too far but I did want some privacy.

"Su'riel, you must not be too worried about what Beyor said. He is my friend but I confess, he is a vile man that says the most contemptible things and as he proved at Daggerford, his taste, and therefore opinions, in women are dubious at best."

That was good to hear.

"However, Sylvanna might be the rare exception to his poor choice in women."

That was not.

We had gone far enough I stopped, "Rolan, do you find Sylvanna attractive?"

I was holding back tears and trying desperately not to show it. He put his hands on my shoulders and those traitorous tears began to stream down my cheeks.

He looked at me for a long moment and then he sat down on a large rock and pulled me into his lap; he placed his arms around me and held me close.

"I told you, I never looked at women as objects of desire or beauty until I met you. When you smile at me, it lights up the room."

I smiled at him.

"Exactly like that. When you told me of your childhood, you put your my arms around and told me not to get used to this but I have thought of little else since you allowed me this pleasure."

He held me close and all my fears and worries began to fade like the way the sun melts the morning fog.

"Sylvanna is tall and attractive in a human sort of way, and I can see why Beyor would lust after her."

That was a sour note in what was starting to sound like a good song.

"But our relationship is more than that, Beyor is a man of lust and desire and he takes what he wants, he cannot understand much more than the physical so he is drawn to women like-"

The song was starting to sound better but I no longer wanted to talk about Beyor and especially her.

"Rolan, don't talk about anyone else. Tell me more about what you find attractive about me."

I knew it was petty and selfish, but I was feeling very insecure and I knew somewhere in Rolan's scholarly observations there were details about my body that I needed to hear right then.

"When I first saw you at the tavern I recognized you as an attractive moon elf but I fancied myself of scholarly discipline so I tried to ignore you, however you are not someone easily ignored. Then, when we were in your home, I was truly challenged. Your intellect was on full display as you took every piece of information and fact you could glean from me, and then the way you questioned me, and your insight into my uncle's past; I was truly amazed. I knew I was in the presence of a woman that I could spend all my days learning and studying side by side with."

This was nice, but again, not what I needed to hear.

"But you were wearing that robe-"

Now the song was getting good again

"-and the parts of you it did not reveal were the parts of you that I was ashamed I wanted to see, it hugged every curve of your beautiful body. I do not know if you caught me but several times I tried to look down your robe or see if it would not give me more than just a hint of you."

Oh! That old thing? Actually I didn't catch him. Good job, Rolan.

"That night, if I had been a man more like…rather, if I had not considered myself a disciplined scholar and a gentleman, I would have done everything to try and get that robe off of you."

Cacophony! That was it, those were the words I needed to hear; he squeezed me harder and my tender, bruised pride felt mended. He ran his hands down the outside of my leg up the side of my chest. I felt a strange warmth course through my body where he touched me.

"You are perfect Su'riel, from the top for your luxurious black hair, down to your painted little toes; you are the most beautiful woman to me."

He held me close and I waited for him to kiss me or try and make love to me. Rolan was too inexperienced to know it but in that moment, I would have gladly given myself completely over to him. We stayed on the rock for a few minutes, everything he said and did was exactly what I wanted at the moment until he said, "We should probably go."

I gave him another smile, then I kissed him deeply and whispered to him, "Just so you know, when we do make love, you will be my first."

His eyes widened in surprise at that statement. I stood and held his hand as we headed back to camp.

I joined the women around the campfire they were peeling and slicing the various roots and herbs that Sylvanna and Joy had gathered. Rolan joined the men by the river bank. Beyor was still laughing and it was almost like nothing had happened. I made a comment how I couldn't believe that Rolan and Beyor had nearly killed each other an hour ago and now they were best friends.

"Aye, me mum always said, if ye wrong a woman she'll remember it till 'er dying day, but if two men wrong each' other, they'll punch it out, 'ave a pint and twas like it never 'appened."

I had actually seen that play out in a bar quite a few times, but it was still strange to me. I looked over and it was just as she had said, Scotty had given Rolan a bottle of beer from his bag of holding so all the men were drinking and laughing. Before long, the men brought back enough fish for the whole camp. Dahlia ate the heads and tales and it was a wonderful feast of fish and vegetables and herbs.

After dinner, Joy and I took turns entertaining everyone. She taught me a few of the halfling ballads and she told some wonderful stories. I sang a few of the more traditional moon elf songs. Then Joy sang more of the ballad about the halfling hero with the dwarves while Rolan brushed out my hair and braided it.

Sylvanna stared at us the whole time and I thought I heard Beyor mumble something about "little sister." When Rolan was done I turned around and said, "Thank you," so the camp could hear; I then gave him a long passionate kiss. Apparently it got everyone's attention, which I had hoped it would, because Joy stopped playing. When I was done, I rested my head on Rolan's chest as he reclined with his head on his pack.

Scotty turned to Joy and asked, "Heyoh! When ye sista' braided ye' hair did ye ever thank 'er and kiss 'er"

"Nay, mah sista' and I only 'it each otha', we never thanked or kissed each otha'."

Beyor laughed and shook his head. For as much as I hated him and his laugh, I was glad that he was in a better mood. The swelling in Rolan's eye had gone down, and other than the black eye there really didn't seem any reminder of the afternoon's events.

Joy resumed playing as I rested on Rolan's chest. He had his arm around me and I was enjoying being held; it gave me a sense of security and belonging I didn't know I lacked. Then a strange thought occurred to me, Rolan had gotten something he wanted from me without asking; he had simply started holding and touching me, more than just my hands. No man had ever taken a liberty with my body before without me explicitly allowing it, except Rolan. Somehow this made me happy.

I began to doze for what I thought was a few minutes, but I when I sat up everyone was asleep, except Rolan. He ran his hand down my arm as I sat up. His shirt was open and I was looking at his bare chest, instinctively I reached out and rubbed it gently, the same sense of warmth coursed through my body. Rolan was smiling at me, and then he looked at my arm and frowned, "Su'riel, what happened to your arm?"

I looked down and saw the bruises Joy had given me when she held my arm.

"When you and Beyor got into a fight, Joy and Sylvanna held me back.. They thought it best that you and Beyor solve your differences without me getting involved. Apparently, I put up more of a fight to get away than I thought."

"I wondered what had happened to you. It did seem uncharacteristic of you not to respond to Beyor. Do you think they were right?"

NO.

Yes. Why does Rolan ask me questions like this when I'm tired.

"Just make sure next time you get in a fight with a bigger man, you use magic to make it unfair in your favor."

"That is the wizarding way."

"Then it had better be the way my wizard fights."

I leaned over and gave Rolan a good night kiss and I told him I was going to meditate, and then I crossed my legs and prepared to meditate.

As I began to fall into my trance, something strange happened. I sensed movement and as I looked up Sylvanna had moved over to where Rolan and I were. She had her hair down and her brush in hand. I looked up at her, and as our eyes locked she had a curiously fearful look in her eyes. Like a wild animal caught in a trap.

"I wanted Rolan to brush my hair like he does yours," Sylvanna's regular plain tone had a pleading edge to it.

"Find your own man that knows how to braid hair, Sylvanna, this one is mine."

"It is a rare thing in men."

No shit. Which is why I'm protective of it.

"You trained your wolf, you can train a man."

Sylvanna looked over at Beyor's snoring form and I could see her shoulders drop and her whole body seemed to be overcome by a great weight.

Rolan spoke up, "Su'riel, I don't mind"

Quiet Rolan! Her reaction broke my heart but Rolan's hair braiding was something between us. I honestly had pity for Sylvanna at that moment but I needed to be strong about this issue. Even if Rolan made me feel better about the differences between Sylvanna and me from this afternoon, this was the sort of thing that would tear me up inside, no matter how much I was sure that, for Rolan, braiding Sylvann's hair wouldn't be the same as braiding my hair. It was just not acceptable to me.

"Sylvanna, braiding my hair is an intimate thing between Rolan and I, I'm not comfortable with him braiding another woman's hair," I told her gently.

She stared at me for a long time, then she lowered her gaze, "Yes. I understand. It is intimate."

When she lowered her gaze I wanted to give her a hug, "Oh come here Sylvanna, I'll braid your hair, just don't ask my 'mate' to do it for you."

"No. if it is intimate than it would not be appropriate."

"Sylvanna, if I brushed your hair it would make us sisters, please sit here," I motioned for her to sit in front of me.

"No. I apologize, please forgive me," her head was still down, and she looked so sad.

Whatever I thought about Sylvanna and her attempts to steal Rolan from me disappeared at that moment. I know Sylvanna is a practical woman, and she isn't around people often. I understood that and her way of speaking is probably due part of that. But my relationship with Rolan is new and something I'm very protective of.

She sat down in front of me, and I began to brush out her hair. As I was getting a few of the tangles out it was as if she could sense some of what I was thinking, "I am sorry, I would never come between mates".

"It's alright Sylvanna, I know you didn't mean anything by it."

Normally I would have interjected something about how she was raised by wolves, but I truly felt compassion for Sylvanna and I didn't know why. This was even stranger for me, because I was about to stab her thirty seconds ago.

"When I find a mate, it will be for life."

There was another long pause.

"If another woman got between us I would kill her."

She really was my sister.

I gave her the same loose braid to the left that I preferred to sleep in. She looked very happy with it, even though I know she could have done it herself. She called me sister, thanked me again, which for someone who uses as few words as possible was like being thanked profusely. She even smiled and in that moment, I felt a lot closer to her. I watched as she went back to her hammock and Rolan resumed working over his spells for the next day. As I began to meditate again, I made a note that I would speak to Rolan about how if he wanted to continue having the pleasure of braiding my hair it was going to be exclusively between us. Of course he might have felt just as bad for Sylvanna as I did; her change in body language was heart breaking but it was still worth talking to him about.


	12. Chapter 10: Rolan - The Trick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Su'riel tricks Beyor into revealing his past exploits with women in front of Sylvanna.

As I was sitting near the campfire, preparing myself for a day of traveling, I pondered the events of the previous day. I wanted to examine and catalog how the inclusion of Sylvanna had changed the dynamics of our companionship, but my recent experiences with Su'riel were dominating my thoughts in that moment.

In our first few days of travel, Su'riel had made it clear that we were simply two elves traveling together, what some might consider acquaintances at best. When Beyor mistook us for husband and wife she rejected this concept utterly and with absolute certainty. It seemed so decided in her mind, that it actually amused me when highwaymen made the same mistake. Of course my amusement offended Su'riel and, had it been anyone else, I would have explained that it was her initial reaction to the idea that had made it seem laughingly absurd for the misconception to be made by another party once again.

I now understand that Su'riel likely viewed my laughter as a form of rejection. Su'riel, for all her confidence, skill, and beauty, is insecure. I do not know if this insecurity is a general weakness of hers, or if it is just something between her and me. Which is to say, she worries that I might reject or leave her. This has led me to consider that I need to find a way to assure her that I would never do either.

Oddly, this whole line of thought had come to me because Sylvanna had mistaken us for husband and wife, at least I believe she did. Sylvanna has an eclectic and unorthodox manner in her speech but she referred to us as "mates" and the context implied the same as spouses, Su'riel said as much to her. This was one of the many changes that was occurring between us. Even the idea of us, though accurate, seems new and ill-fitting.

Su'riel had given me significant details of her childhood as well as telling me about her allegiance to the Harpers. This information should lead me to some amazing insights into why Su'riel says and does the things she does. But even these thoughts were difficult for me to consider for long because our relationship had taken on a physical dimension and this was causing me significant distraction.

When I touch her, it is like magic; there is warmth and power and electricity coursing through my body. As a scholar, I had read of love and what it meant but it was so bound in emotional feelings that I dismissed it as something trivial. I now understand it as a power in itself.

Yesterday I had also been party to the negative aspect of love. I found myself in a brawl with Beyor over Su'riel. My brothers and I would fight from time to time; my mother was quick to discourage such foolishness but my father had taught us a few things, including the choke hold I used to best Beyor. Of course, once I began my studies with my uncle, physical altercations were strongly discouraged. As a wizard controls the very power of nature and creation, entering into a physical altercation represents a failure in his magical ability. However, Beyor is a brute of a man and all he respects is power. I could have used offensive spells like magic missile or flame dart in that contest but I do not believe it would have had the same effect.

Though using the light spell was probably for the best, as it left Beyor some means by which to excuse his loss. None the less, when I had him in the choke hold, I made him swear not to call Su'riel a bitch, a whore, a prostitute or any of the other nasty epitaphs he had ascribed to her. He actually passed out before he had agreed to any of it but he did seem to be behaving a little more respectfully toward her. Or he is simply keeping his opinions to himself.

Later, when we were drinking beer and fishing, it seemed like one of those strange moments with my brothers and cousins. The transgression had been committed, the altercation had been had and all was forgiven. As long as the offending parties did not bring up the situation, no one else was would either. Beyor even complimented me on the choke hold.

I was certain Su'riel would later tell Beyor if he ever did that again, she would castrate him or some other dire threat, but for now the camp had returned to normal. I was brushing Su'riel's hair, Beyor was laughing, Scotty and Joy were saying amusing things in an accent I barely understood, and Sylvanna was quietly staring at us.

That reminded me of another odd episode from the previous evening. Sylvanna's desire to have her hair brushed was unexpected, as Sylvanna struck me as the type of woman who is self-sufficient and revels in her independence. The exchange between Su'riel and Sylvanna was quite revealing and this morning when Su'riel handed me her hair brush and explained that this was something just between her and I, and if she caught me braiding another woman's hair there would be "severe life altering consequences". I acknowledged her concern but tried to explain that the only reason I had offered was because Sylvanna had looked so sad and uncharacteristically pathetic. For a proud and capable woman to look so dejected and helpless filled me with great sorrow.

Su'riel agreed but reiterated that there needed to be more exclusivity between us and this was one of the places she was drawing that line. Now that I understood that this was part of her childhood and how it returned to her some of that security she had lost, I better understood the value it had to her. Along with that, came the concept that I was her mate. I should try to ensure that Sylvanna, Su'riel and I are all using the same definition of that word. Then a different thought occurred to me.

"Su'riel, I am about to braid your hair but I suddenly recalled that you had mentioned your mother would braid silver jewelry into your hair. Do you have anything you would like me to put in your hair?"

Su'riel drug her pack over to where we were sitting, and dug around a little then she removed a rolled up piece of black velvet cloth. She carefully unrolled it, revealing several pieces of silver. There was a leather hair thong with a beautifully engraved silver flower, several engraved beads of different sizes, silver chains, and a curious moon shaped pendant, there were also two silver rings. She selected a few of the larger beads, and the leather hair thong, and handed them to me.

"Perhaps I could do something with that moon pendant," I offered.

She held it and dropped it between her hands as she looked at me for a long moment, then shook her head, "No, thank you, Rolan."

She then rolled the black velvet up and carefully placed it into her bag. I threaded the beads onto her hair, wove the braids together and then used the thong to put it up. She examined my handy work and turned around and smiled. She then hugged me and I felt her breasts underneath her shirt as she pressed against me and kissed me. This is the same thing that occurred last night when she kissed me before her trance. The effect was, once more, quite distracting.

We broke camp soon after that. Sylvanna preferred we moved in silence through the woods, but this didn't stop Beyor from talking.

After a few quiet miles Beyor suddenly said, "Sylvanna, have you ever been with a real man"?

"No. Have you?" Sylvanna replied, and Su'riel and I exchanged amused looks.

One other interesting aspect to Sylvanna's peculiar way of speaking was it was difficult to discern if she was being sarcastic or sincere. We all assumed this was sarcasm but it would take a long time to get to know her well enough to be able to tell for certain.

Beyor laughed, "I'm talking a big burly man, not some squirrely little ranger boy but a man that knows how to please a woman and keep her satisfied all night long."

"You can only satisfy for a night?"

"What? No. I can satisfy you all night and into the day."

Sylvanna said nothing for a moment but this didn't seem to bother Beyor, "Alright, Sylvanna what do you want from a man."

"Silence on the trail."

"What else?"

"Ability to listen."

If I were Beyor I would have assumed this was her attempt to try and reiterate her previous point, but I am not Beyor.

"What else"?

"More than a night."

Beyor laughed, "That's what I thought, so how many nights of the best sex you'll ever had would you want from the manliest man you'll ever meet."

"All of the nights."

Beyor laughed, "Yeah when I make love to a women, they are ruined for other men. You wouldn't be the first girl that wanted to go the long haul with me but I'm not exactly that sort of guy."

Beyor continued laughing.

"I know."

That stopped Beyor laughing mid breath.

"Well maybe I could be for you."

"Doubtful."

After a few moments she added, "Perhaps the halfling and you could wager on it."

"Nay," Scotty interjected, "I dunna wager on me friends' romances no more. I've learned tis bad for mah own love life."

Joy made a smug noise of agreement.

The Su'riel began, "Beyor perhaps you would like to tell us more about these many women you have loved and left behind. I'd love to write a ballad of the trail of broken hearts you've left between the various fights and battles you've participated in."

Beyor laughed, "It would be too many to recount elf and even if I could, the song would be too long."

"Nonsense! We'll make it a fast dance song. Beyor's Ballad of Beer, Bitches and Battles."

"Aye ah' like the sounds of that song," Scotty interjected as Joy pummeled him.

"Now," Su'riel continued, "which have you done more? Killed men or bedded women"?

Beyor laughed again, "Well, I generally kill men at a rate of two or three per fight but getting two women into bed is difficult and I've only gotten three girls at once one time."

"Ever had a night where you slept with several women separately?"

"Oh yeah, I've done that plenty of times."

"So you might have slept with more women than you killed men."

"No. No. I've had days where I've gotten into lots of fights and I've been in some actual battles. I'm pretty sure it's men, definitely if you count orcs and trolls and other smart creatures."

I knew what Su'riel was doing and as impressive as her ability to trick Beyor into further hurting his chances with Sylvanna was, I felt she may have gone too far. I looked over at Sylvanna and she was staring at Beyor with an expression that was a mix of sadness and disappointment.

"Can you name a few of these lady loves from your past? I'll need them for the chorus?"

"Well there's Brewey or Bunny..or uh, what was her name from the bar at Daggersford?"

"Brunnie," Joy interjected, "Ye should remember, it was just two days ago."

Her tone sounded like she was trying to be helpful but the way Scotty and Joy were trying not to laugh implied she knew exactly what Su'riel was doing.

Beyor was looking down trying to remember the names, and probably the faces, of his past sexual encounters. Suddenly his head snapped up, and he looked over at Su'riel.

"You're not writing me a song are you?"

Su'riel laughed, "No, I'm not. At least not about this."

Beyor laughed for a moment himself, "I said some terrible things about you yesterday and I may have deserved this. I'm sorry, Su'riel."

Su'riel looked touched, "I accept your apology."

"Let's continue," Sylvanna interjected.

Beyor had a sudden dawning look of comprehension at what Su'riel had done, "You little-" he stopped himself and turned to Sylvanna, "Sylvanna, these women, they meant nothing to me."

"Neither would I after two days."

"Look it is not as many as it sounded, honest. Su'riel just tricked me, you know how bards like exaggerate things for their tales. I swear it's only a few women."

"How could you say for certain"?

"Well, I can't but that doesn't mean.." Beyor was at a loss of words. He looked back at Su'riel with a murderous gleam in his eye and shook his head. And we quietly resumed walking again.

I whispered low and in elfish in Su'riel's ear, "I would not have guessed you would find a way to further humiliate Beyor in front of Sylvanna, rather I had thought you would threaten to castrate him in his sleep as a warning not to say or do anything like he did yesterday ever again."

"I might still do that," she whispered back in elfish.

Su'riel had a very smug look on face and I believe she did not recognize the effect her little game had on Sylvanna.

"You know, I do not think Sylvanna appreciated hearing about Beyor's past exploits."

"I wanted to make sure she knew what sort of man Beyor was and, besides, that was exactly what he did to you yesterday. He said all sorts of horrible things about me to hurt me while he pummeled you. The difference is, he is a horrible person. Also, I haven't attacked him yet."

"Also you and I both got hurt yesterday. I believe Sylvanna knew what Beyor was without knowing the specifics. I also believe she had an easier time accepting him before you tricked him into recounting his past exploits like they were something to celebrate."

Su'riel stopped and her blue eyes were open wide in surprise, "You don't think she has feelings for him?"

"She looked very disappointed and sad. And she looked more disappointed the longer you kept him talking about all the women with the names he could not remember."

Su'riel whispered a few elvish curse words, "I'll speak to her later." She cursed some more followed by, "Beyor brings out the worst in me."

"I have the same problem, my mate."

She looked at me and smiled, whispered back "my mate" and laughed and we walked along through the woods hand in hand for the rest of the day.


	13. Chapter 11: Rolan - The Keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys! I am so sorry that its been forever since I've updated. School, life, etc... got in the way. The story is completely finished so I have no excuse to not update now. I promise to update regularly from now on!

We finally arrived at the deserted keep, as the sun was setting. There was evidence to suggest that it had once been an impressive structure; however, it had long since fallen into disrepair and was currently in a deplorable condition. Due to the dark and foreboding sense that surrounded the keep, we had no desire to camp in the vicinity  and retreated to a nearby hill overlooking the keep.    


We kept no fire that night since we did not know if there was anyone in the keep or enemies prowling nearby. We also maintained two people on watch all night. Su'riel and I alternated our four hour trances while our other companions each joined us for a two hour watch. No one slept well and we were all profoundly relieved when the dawn finally broke. After a cold breakfast, we journeyed back to the keep.

The walls were mostly in ruin but small portions of the keep remained. The main structure was still intact, as was the chapel. There was a tower that rose upward from one side of the keep along with a sister tower that had fallen, resulting in stone and masonry scattered throughout the abandoned courtyard. The air felt dead in the area.

Su'riel gave Joy a sidelong look, “Joy can you think of any amusing stories, because this place completely drives the hope out of me.”

“Ay,  ah’ve got one,” Scotty interjected, “See I used to ‘ave this mate Shamus, ‘e built bridges an such-”

“Ye mean Shamus, the man that used to screw goats.”

“Ah woman, ye ruin mah story. Poor Shamus ‘e built great things arounda’ village but no one can think of ‘im as anything but ah man what slepta with goats.”

“A man abusing animals is no joke,” Sylvanna broke her silence.

“Animal abuse is nah joke, it’s that no one knows ‘im for anythin’ but that he…’ah never mind. Ah joke ye gotta explain is nah joke.”

Beyor laughed, but somehow in this place it had a hollow did ring to it. He stopped suddenly, and the eerie silence became almost overwhelming once more.

We entered the chapel, which had clearly been desecrated. All of the windows were broken, the religious icons turned upside down and an ominous stone altar had been set up in the middle of what clearly had once been a sanctuary. The altar appeared to be blood stained.

“This has been used recently,” Sylvanna informed us.  

As my eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, I also noticed there were a large number of scattered bones. Dahlia pawed at one pile while Sylvanna carefully examined another. “Human and elf,” she noted.

I began to cast detect magic, when Su'riel grabbed my arm, “I don’t think that is necessary, everything here is evil. Let’s just go.” No one said anything, we simply filed back out into the courtyard and walked over to the ruined keep. The massive front doors were slightly ajar and we were able to easily enter the main hall. The roof had collapsed, but the walls stood. The ruin had an old and musty scent about it.

“Sylvanna do you know how long this Keep has been abandoned?” Su'riel asked her.

“I have never known it to be occupied.”

“Has it always been so foreboding?” I asked

“No. A few seasons ago necromancers came.”

As we journeyed deeper into the keep, I cast an illumination spell on Poison’s sword and held it in front of me. We soon came to what must have been the throne room; it was a dark and gloomy room with two sets of stairs leading upwards and another leading down. We choose to go up the set of stairs that led to the tower. It was an uneventful climb to the top of the tower, and when we reached the top we found an empty room. Like the main hall, the roof had long since been destroyed which allowed the sun to shine through. This spot seemed untainted by the general malaise that permeated the rest of the keep.

Beyor broke the silence, “Elf, remind me again why we came here.”

“My kin came here looking for necromancers. I’d thought we would kill them or drive them off. You were going to kill stuff…stuff that might already be dead.” Su'riel sounded a little hurt.

Beyor laughed and it sounded normal. Everything felt normal again, but Su'riel looked a little disappointed. “The Harpers were sent here for a reason, I don’t understand” she whispered in elvish.

“Come,” Sylvanna motioned

“Aye, there tis nothin’ ‘ere, lets get as far away as we can ‘afore the sun sets,” Scotty said.

I could not agree more. I whispered to Su'riel in elvish, “This was not your mission, and you have gone out of your way already. We will report this to the other Harpers and we can continue to the Calim desert.”

Su'riel nodded, but I knew she was displeased. When we returned to the throne room something seemed different. Sylvanna stopped and Dahlia was looking down the hallway and gave a short whine.

“The room changed,” Sylvanna seemed uncertain of which way to go. I suggested we take the second flight of stairs. I reasoned that since the second tower had collapsed it would lead us back outside. The consensus was that this made sense.

We climbed the stairs to find ourselves in a long dark hallway. Sylvanna and Dahlia took the lead again, and Beyor, for whatever reason, decided it was time to try and convince Sylvanna of his potential as a suitor and his personal fidelity.

“Sylvanna, what will it take for you to believe me that I would be yours and yours alone.”

She stopped to face him, “What would you offer?”

“What? Like a ring or a jewel or gold?” She gave her head a quick shake. It was obvious that nothing like that was of value of to her.

“What of yours do you value most”?

Beyor laughed, “My battle axe, and my mighty arms!”

Sylvanna cocked her head to the side, “You offer those?”

“I’ll wrap you up in these arms and keep you warm at night,” Beyor laughed

Sylvanna gave him a quick small shake of her head again. It was such a dismissive gesture that I suspected it probably frustrated Beyor worse than anything she said or did not say. when he saw her shake her head he stopped laughing.

“Uh…keep you warm ALL the nights.”

“I have furs to keep me warm,” she turned to walk away, “what could your arms do for me?” She took two steps and there was an ominous click.

“None of ye move!” Scotty shouted, but it was too late. The ceiling above Sylvanna opened and before any of us knew what was happening, Beyor hurled himself into Sylvanna knocking her across the floor as a large stone fell from the ceiling and pinned him to the floor. Sylvanna yelled Beyor’s name as she got to her feet and tried to lift the stone. Beyor planted his hands as close to his shoulders as he could and attempted to push up. As he did this cruel spikes came out of the floors and pierced his hands. Before he could get his hands off the spikes they moved toward the wall stretching his arms out. When the spikes locked in place more spikes appeared from the floor piercing his arms. Beyor shouted in pain, then yelled, “KROM HELP ME! OR ELSE GO TO HELL!”

Scotty ran around the stone looking for some release to the mechanism. Then we heard another strange sound, it was a whoosh followed by a click that was coming from the hole in the ceiling. Scotty stopped running and looked, “ah gawd, tis pendulum blades.”

Beyor grunted, “What?”

“Blades on ah pendulum, each swing an they get lower, theys set tah cut off yer arms”.

“Never mind, just find a way to get me out of here.”

Sylvanna looked up at the blades, and then looked at Poison’s sword. I handed it to her, and then Su'riel grabbed me by the arm, “You’re a wizard Rolan, you need to think like one.”

I cast detect magic, the whole place had a terrible aura, but the device itself was mechanical in nature, though there was something strange extending from the spikes in the floor. I told Scotty that the trap was not magical, and he mumbled some profanity and thanks at me. He was now carefully making his way down the hallway searching the walls for something to stop the machine. The pendulum blades now swung into view, Sylvanna waited till they extended past the stone and the she slid Poison’s sword between the stone and pendulum arms to lock the blades place. The blades stopped for a moment, then there was the sound of a machine laboring, and gears grinding. The sword broke leaving us in darkness as the ominous sound of the whoosh and click resumed.

I cast the illumination spell again, this time centered on our area, and Beyor shouted, “Damn it Rolan! This is just like when I first met you, you dick around while I’m stuck dying.”

I began to look for some release mechanism in the wall. I took a few steps away from the trap and saw three small holes in the wall. I yelled for Scotty and as he ran toward me I saw that the blades were now about waist level. Sylvanna had actually grabbed a hold of one of the pendulum arms and was trying to stop it by bracing her feet against the stone, and pulling back with her all her might. Again it worked for a moment, but then Sylvanna was slammed hard against the stone. Su'riel and Joy were each on either side of the stone likely preparing healing spells in case Scotty and I failed to disable the machine. Scotty looked into the holes, then looked around for something to stick into them. He grabbed a piece of the broken sword blade and stuck it in the middle hole, as he tried to probe the hole there was a terrible crunch noise and the blade twisted sidewise. Scotty tried to pull out the blade but it was stuck. He looked around for another item to probe with when I cast mage hand on the right hand hole. I felt a handle, but as I went to pull it suddenly felt like blades had sliced into my hand. Scotty saw what I had done, nodded and started to gingerly reach into the third hole. Then he looked over at me, “Dah ye mind, usin’ yer-”

“Rolan, by Bane, get me out of here.” I looked over at Beyor, the blades were about to slice into his arms.

I cast mage hand again into the left hole. I felt another similar level. I pulled back the lever and a moment later the blades stopped and retracted into the roof, the spikes returned to the floor and the stone was suspended a few inches off of Beyor. We pulled him free and rolled him onto his back, Joy and Su'riel each cast healing spells, and he looked better, but I doubted he would be completely restored for some time.

I walked over to where the spikes had come and I noticed grooves in the floor full of Beyor’s blood that ran to a central drain in the middle of the floor. As I walked up to the drain I thought I distinctly heard Beyor’s laugh coming from wherever the drain ended. Dahlia had followed me and she gave a warning growl at the drain. We exchanged looks, and I returned to the rest of the party.   

“Oh, I think I got kissed by the war goddess again,” Beyor looked drunk and faint. I knew he could use a rest, but this keep seemed like a terrible place to rest.

“Beyor, do you think you can walk?” I inquired. 

He held out his arm, and as I reached to help him, Sylvanna grabbed his arm instead and pulled him up. It was obvious Beyor had been profoundly weakened, so Sylvanna draped his arm across her shoulders and held him up by putting her hand around his waist.

Beyor chuckled softly, “Hey beautiful, I made you scream my name.”

“From horror, not passion.”

“Still counts,” He chuckled a little more.

“It would have to,” Su'riel whispered to me.

I cast the illumination spell once again on Beyor’s battle axe and gave it to Scotty to carry. Scotty now led the party with a watchful eye for traps and other hidden dangers. We were careful to step where he stepped. When we came to the end of the hall there was a sealed section of wall, that likely led outside and stairs going down. We took the stairs and found ourselves in a dungeon, it was lined with prison cells that held a wide assortment of bones, some human, and some other exotic creatures. The very last cell held a more recent corpse, or it looked like a corpse, until we got close and a dirty dwarf in torn clothes and badly ruined armor stood up.

“By Orghm, tell me that you’ve been sent by the Harpers and come to rescue me.”

Su'riel ran over to the cell, “I’m with the Harpers, we found the belongings of two other Harpers among the stolen goods of some highwaymen. Were those men with you?”

I looked over at our companions to see if there was any reaction to the revelation that Su'riel was a Harper, but no one said anything. Of course as a bard, Joy would be very familiar with the Harpers even if she was not one herself, so she likely assumed that any strange quest Su'riel wanted to undertake was probably Harper-related. Scotty would probably figure the same. Sylvanna merely stared, and since she rarely displays or even shares her thoughts I could not tell if she was surprised or even cared about this revelation. Beyor only cares about women, alcohol and fighting, and since he had no fight in him and he is currently being supported by a woman, I doubted he was interested in anything being said until the topic turned to drink or combat.    

“Aye, that is what happened to them. I lead the Harper’s cell out of Daggersford. When those two failed to report back after a fortnight, I assumed the necromancer or his cult had got ‘em. I would have sent more Harpers but I had no other available agents, so I came here on my own, looking to see if I could either rescue them or find out what happened. Of course if some idiot highwaymen took them down, I shouldn’t hope they would have done any better against the necromancer”

“How were you captured?” I asked.

“Pride, foolishness, take your pick. I was more interested in finding my men, and the necromancer was ready for me.”

I suddenly realized we had failed to formally introduce ourselves. “Sir, forgive my manners I am Rolan, this is Su'riel, the two halflings are Joy and Scotty, and behind me are Beyor and Sylvanna.”

“Eberek, but I’ll likely forget your names before I need ‘em. What’s wrong with your friend there.”

“He was caught in a trap in the hallway above us and has lost a significant amount of blood.”

“We best hurry then, the necromancer is using the blood to build a formidable construct, also do any of you know how long we have till sundown?”

“Two hours,” Sylvanna responded.

“Well then we definitely need to get a move on. This whole damn charnel house of corpses comes alive at sundown.”

“aye, tis best we leave then, and come back tomorrow.” Scotty interjected.

Eberek laughed, “you haven’t figured out that you are as trapped as I am? You’re cell might be bigger, but the necromancer can change the layout of this place. Now stand back, we got work to do.”

Su'riel and I took a few steps from the door and Eberek picked up the cell door from the bottom and it came out of its hinges and fell forward. He then walked around over to a table, pulled out his pack and a Warhammer. He then turned around and looked surprised, “Well, let’s go.”

“Aye Eberek, if ye could let yerself outta the cage at any time, why didna’ ye?” Scotty asked.

“The ‘cage’ kept them out, when they came alive after dark. I told you there was no way to escape.” When he said “them” we turned around and saw all the various other skeletons in the cells, suddenly I noticed that all the other cell doors were missing or smashed open.

“We best hurry, or we’ll have to fight our way through all them till we escape the castle keep or sunup,” Eberek opened the door and we quickly walked into a torture chamber. Eberek drew us all together in the middle of the chamber.

“Prepare yourselves brothers and sisters, his inner sanctum is through that door,” Eberek pointed to a door across the room from us. “Once we enter, we will be in for the fight of our lives and if you fall, the fight may continue with you against your friends. Now draw close as I pray for guidance and strength.


	14. Chapter 12: Rolan - The Necromancer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their very souls at risk, the party battles a powerful necromancer. Rolan learns about the power of love.

As the cleric said his prayer the room lit up and some of the feeling dread and despair dissipated. Eberek asked if any of us smoked, Scotty responded that he did, and he asked him for his tinder kit. Eberek took out a few matches and crushed them. Then he looked over at Beyor, “We’re probably going to need you too.” He then cast a healing spell and Beyor suddenly looked the picture of health. Beyor collected his battle axe from Scotty and laughed his loud boisterous laugh. “I’ve cheated death, been carried by my warrior goddess, and now I’m ready for glorious battle.”

Eberek sighed and I got the impression that his feelings on barbarians were the opposite of his feelings on rangers.

“Alright Death-Cheater, go knock down that door for me, but don’t get into the middle of the things till I tell you.” Beyor charged the door and dropped his shoulder so that the door exploded into splinters. Eberek held up his hand and started to call wait, but when the door exploded, he simply yelled, “Go, all of you quick”. As we charged into the room Eberek mumbled something about “it’s just like that time with brother Jankins”.

I stepped into the room and I saw a very ancient looking man was sitting in a chair on a small platform. He wore scarlet robes and his head was shaven so that his gaunt appearance almost made his head appear to be a skull. In his hand was a large staff with the skull of goat.

Beyor was charging straight at the man with his axe down low, ready for a powerful upward swing; the Necromancer watched him for a moment, cackled again, and then with a quick gesture of his hand Beyor went flying back against the wall and landed in a heap.

Eberek was beside me and muttered, “Damn Barbarians, always more balls than brains; always have to swing first then ask questions.” Joy ran over to Beyor and was trying to revive him.

The Necromancer began to cackle again, “Eberek, looks like you found more people to send to death. More men and women who followed your poor leadership in life, but do my bidding in death. Now I just have to decide if I’m going to kill them, and then put you back in your cage and wait for despair to overcome you so you beg for death, or simply kill you now.”

“Your evil will end here, Necromancer!” Eberek shouted.

“Perhaps, perhaps, but even in death I can continue my work. Now let’s see who you’ve brought me.” When the Necromancer’s eye passed over me he showed a sudden look of interest, “Ah Rolan. This is unforeseen. My brothers and sisters are waiting for you at Baldur’s Gxate. No matter, it is good to see you. I must say though your uncle is disappointed with the company you keep.”

There was a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach, “My uncle is dead.”

“That does not mean we cannot still converse. After we’ve added these insignificant mortals to my guard, I can show you the way of true power. The power of life and death.”

Eberek whispered to me, “Don’t listen brother.” Then he shouted at the Necromancer, “ENOUGH DON’T SAY ANOTHER –“

The necromancer laughed and with another quick hand motion cast a spell that silenced Eberek. Undeterred Eberek reached over to Sylvanna touched her on the shoulder and made a sweeping knife hand motion. With impossible speed put two arrows into the air immediately followed by a third. The Necromancer blocked two of them with his staff, and the third hit him in the eye. He simply laughed as he pulled the arrow, and his eye, out of his skull. Sylvanna prepared to fire another arrow, and The Necromancer made a quick motion with his fingers and her bow string broke. Without thinking she dropped the bow and unsheathed her sword. Eberek held up his hand to stop her.

“Rolan your friends seem mighty, but what is their might compared to my power?” He pulled the eye off the arrow then stuck it back into its socket. A moment later it spun around, and now it glowed red. “A minor inconvenience? Come with me, and I will show you true and ageless power, what could these fools offer you?”

Su'riel reached over and grabbed my hand and squeezed it tight.

“Oh love? Have you been deceived by the greatest of lies? Does this woman please you? I could show you how to make all these women your slaves, and then serve you even in death.”

Su'riel was now whispering in my ear, “Don’t look at him, look at me, Rolan, look at me, please.”

With the greatest of efforts I turned my head. Su'riel’s blue eyes sparkled with huge tears, she reached up and grabbed my head in order to keep it focused on hers.

“Rolan.“ The Necromancer called my name and I was compelled to look at him.

Su'riel now moved in front of me, trying to keep herself between me and the Necromancer. She was crying and pleading with me not to look at him. He suddenly shouted, “MOVE ELF!” and with a flick of his wrist Su'riel went flying against the wall near Joy and Beyor. Enraged I raised my hand and cast fire bolt. It traveled within inches of him and then stopped. It hung in the air a moment and then disappeared.

He stood up and stepped down from the platform “I don’t mind your passion boy, but the object of it, is so crude and wasted, and beneath you. You are Deiro’s apprentice! You should be with me, not some Barbarian simpleton, the tavern entertainment, a filthy human raised by wolves, and especially not this cleric.”  

Just then I saw Scotty emerge from behind his chair. He silently ran off the platform, leaped into the air with both his daggers in his hands. It was apparent the Necromancer had been just as focused on me as I was on him because he made no move to stop Scotty’s attack. Scotty landed on the Necromancer’s back and sunk the daggers into shoulders. As he landed on Scotty shouted, “Ye dinna know ‘e ‘ad a thief too”. The Necromancer collapsed to the ground and it seemed his spells were suddenly lifted.

Eberek had his voice again, “BARBARIAN ON YOUR FEET. RANGER GO!” Eberek shouted running toward the Necromancer. By now the Necromancer had regained his feet, and had used magic to throw Scotty across the room, but Scotty escaped any injury by rolling when he came to the ground. The Necromancer raised his hand to do some other terrible thing but Dahlia grabbed it and pulled him down, this seemed to stop him for a moment, but then he shouted something in infernal, and pried Dahlia off his arm with his staff, then he gave her a few cruel blows with the staff.  Skeletons sprung up around him blocking Scotty, Eberek, Dahlia, and Sylvanna. Beyor was a few paces behind them and he simply dropped his shoulder and tried to barrel through the Skeletons. The one he struck exploded into pieces but two more rose between Beyor and the Necromancer.

I ran over to Su'riel. Joy was already there, and as I got close Joy turned to me and said, “She be fine, go ‘elp to others, or none of us will escape.” Su'riel’s eye fluttered and she looked at me, and held her arms out so I could help her up. I grasped her hands and she lightly sprung to her feet.

I looked over at the Necromancer now that I knew Su'riel was safe. He was on the platform and doing some strange incantation, suddenly the ground shook and from the center of the room a monstrous abomination arose. It looked like a larger version of Beyor except it was stitched together from other creatures. As it rose it was unmoving for a moment, and Beyor sunk his axe into its thigh. This did nothing to the creature, and Beyor now found himself trying to get his axe out. Eberek yelled for everyone to fall back, and they now began to run to where Su'riel, Joy and I were standing. As the Abomination slowly lumbered toward us it swept Beyor and his axe away with its arms. Beyor rolled a little but was quickly back on his feet. I shot magic missiles at the monster but this did not seem to phase it.

As Sylvanna and Dahlia ran back to us, Dahlia grabbed her bow. When they stopped Sylvanna began to restring her weapon.  

“Everyone stand clear of the construct,” Eberek yelled, he pulled the crushed matches out his pocket and, threw them into the air and cast Flame Strike causing a column of fire to wash over abomination and the skeletons. There was a loud roar as the column of fire spun. Eberek looked over at Sylvanna, “When the spell ends and you see the Necromancer, aim for his neck. I don’t want him talking anymore.” Sylvanna nodded. He looked over at Beyor and Scotty who were pressed against the wall several paces away from us, “DESTROY THE CONSTRUCT!” he yelled at them.  He then looked over me, “Don’t get to close to that Necromancer, brother, he is seeking to steal your soul.”

I could only nod.

The spell ended suddenly and Beyor roared at the construct. It was now all blackened and burned skin, but it was still standing and lumbering. I hit it with a few flamebolts, which seemed to only distract it. Su'riel and Joy began to viciously mock the beast, they were singing in some odd rounds taking turns. This seemed to cause it some damage and the monsters laborious movements became slower. When Eberek got close to it he swung his hammer and knocked one of its legs off. As it fell the Necromancer became visible and Sylvanna’s arrows were already in the air. One struck him in the throat, and the other two pinned his hands to the wall behind him. Sylvanna started to slowly walk toward the necromancer, and I followed her. I cast flamebolt as she shot arrows at anything undead.

Eberek was closing on the Necromancer and he lifted his staff and pointed it at Eberek. Before the Necromancer could cast his spell Dahlia lunged and grabbed his arm and pulled him down. The Necromancers arm and hand were pinned to the wall by arrows so he just sort of slumped down as Dahlia bit and pulled at the arm, there was a sickening crack of broken bones and the arm hung limp, and he dropped the staff. Dahlia moved his staff away from him.  

Eberek slowly walked up to the Necromancer. “You are defeated, your evil life is over”. 

Eberek raised his hammer as the Necromancer cackled, “but my evil won’t end here”. He continued to cackle as he received his death blow.

“OUT!” Eberek yelled. I felt a weight lift over me, but Eberek’s yell filled me with some new dread. I turned and Su'riel and Joy were already out the door. Sylvanna was beside me and soon Dahlia caught up to us. When we got to the stairs I paused for a moment for Eberek and Scotty and Beyor to catch up. In a moment we were together again and when we got to the top of the stairs the hallway looked different again.

“It has changed” Sylvanna reported

“Its fine, this is the real hallway, now hurry.” Eberek replied, his breathing became labored as he was doing his best to sprint. Scotty got out in front and tried to spot any traps but something about what Eberek had said made us think the keep was about to collapse at any minute. Then I saw out the window, the sun was setting.  

We were in the throne room, which again looked different but the entrance to the main hall was obvious. We turned down the hallway slipped through the door just as the last few dying rays of sunlight disappeared behind the trees.

“Just keep going, and stay together.” Eberek yelled. I looked over and Joy was starting to lag behind. Beyor simply grabbed her and put her on his shoulder, in a few steps he did the same with Scotty. Things were starting to move around the courtyard. I could see a few human forms start to rise, and I thought I saw a skeletal dog. I looked over at the chapel and I could see things moving around inside.

“They can’t leave the keep grounds, get on the other side of the wall.” Eberek was starting to slow, but we only had another couple hundred feet. Suddenly Arrows flew over my shoulder, I turned to see Skeleton Archers standing on one of the broken guard towers. Sylvanna saw it too because she had already brought her bow and arrow to bear and managed to knock the skeleton’s head off. I saw a few more and shot fire bolts. I was not nearly as accurate as Syvlanna but I managed to hit a few.

Soon we were over the wall and crashing through the woods. Eberek shouted for us to stop so we could get our bearings. After a few minutes Sylvanna led us back to the site we had camped at the previous night. This time Eberek insisted we have a huge campfire. Because of his captivity we decided to pull out the best of what we had for him. He confessed it was a little rich, so Joy prepared him a simple soup. He told her it was still quite a feast after his time stuck in the nkeep. He was glad to take some of the wine that Su'riel offered him. He told us about himself; he was a cleric serving the god Oghma, and had been working with the Harpers for as long as he could remember. He ran the Harper cell out of Daggersford, and was surprised that only Su'riel was a Harper. He was so appreciative of our help and skills that he offered to make any one of us Harpers when we got back to Daggersford. Su'riel and Eberek had a few common friends and exchanged a little gossip. After eating, Su'riel and Joy entertained the camp but I was taken aside by Eberek.

“Tell me brother, why did that necromancer know you?” Eberek asked when we were out of earshot of the others.

Truthfully, I had no clue, and assured Eberek that we had never met before. I did relate to him that it was possible he was an acquaintance of my uncles. Eberek took this news poorly. He then inquired about my uncle and his work. Before long I had told him much of the story between Su'riel and myself and how we were both led to travel to the Calim Desert, for me it was at the request of a dead relative, which before seemed a noble reason, but now it had become a darker and foreboding reason. For Su'riel it was a task from the Harpers. He understood our reasons but asked that I reconsider the journey, but he assured me that if I had to go I had selected a very good traveling partner. He stated this would be addressed in more detail after we returned to Daggerford and he had an opportunity to discuss it with the other Harpers. He made me promise to stay close to Su'riel, and told me that love was not a lie, and it was a power beyond the necromancer’s comprehension. He reminded me that love had the power to create, but necromancer only had the power to destroy or crudely mimic. Then he thanked me again, gave me a few compliments about how good it was to have a wizard on his side, and we walked back to fire. Just as we returned to our friends, Su'riel and Sylvanna also returned to the camp.  Su'riel gave me a strong embrace, told me she was glad to see me.

We sat down and began our evening ritual. I took down her braids and removed the pieces of jewelry and returned them to her. As I brushed her hair she carefully removed the velvet cloth, unrolled it and placed the jewelry with its mates. She then took out the moon pendant and seemed to weigh it in her hand again, she played with a little, and then eventually put all the jewelry away again. When I completed her braid we both leaned back and she reclined on my chest.

“I spoke with Sylvanna” she whispered to me in elvish. I looked over at Sylvanna she was staring at us her hair was done in the same loose one sided braid that Su'riel prefers to sleep in. “Did you braid her hair while you talked”?

“No. she just does that now on her own. You were right though, She had been a little hurt by the exchange with Beyor and me. Not hurt so much as disappointed.”

“With you or him?”

“Both maybe. Him mostly, but you were right, it hurt her. I think she had accepted that Beyor is a bit of a…”

“a brutish womanizer that views women as nothing more than a night of pleasure that he can discard in the morning?”

“Yes, but don’t interrupt me. She…She doesn’t seem offended by the quantity so much as his cavalier attitude. It’s hard to explain, and with Sylvanna I rarely fully understand what she is thinking, but she was upset with me for tricking him into acting that way, and she was upset with him because she wasn’t sure it was an act.”

“Do you believe you have hurt your relationship with her?”

“No. She now calls me sister.”

“Do you think she has feelings for Beyor?”

“She does now after he pushed her out of the way of that trap. Before I think she viewed his constant talk as just a lie to get her into bed, but after today she is starting to take him more seriously.”

“Do you think he is serious?”

“Well after today, maybe. I don’t know if Beyor would have pushed me or you out of the way of that stone.”

“Well certainly not you, but I believe he might have saved me.”

Su'riel grabbed my nipple pinched it and then twisted, before I could yell out she put her other hand over my mouth.

“WHAT!”

“You two hate each other.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand that.” She clamped down on my nipple again.

“Beyor is a terrible person, while you are sweetness and kindness and I am proud of you for trying to warn your sister.”

Su'riel began to rub my wounded chest, “That’s what I thought you said. What did you and Eberek talk about?”

“The necromancer and my relationship to him.”

“I was wondering about that myself Rolan. That man knew you and your uncle quite well, and the fact that he said the other members of his cult are waiting for us at Baldur’s Gate is a little scary.”

“I agree, I suspect the man knew my uncle in his youth when he was more…wild, but I doubt my uncle is speaking with him from beyond the grave.”

“Necromancers can do some awful things Rolan, and perhaps you didn’t know your uncle as well as you think, did Eberek say anything else?”

“He tried to dissuade me from my quest to find the infernal machine. He recommended I reconsider.”

“I hope you don’t. I need your help if I’m going to accomplish my mission. And I’ve been glad to have you with me.” She sat up on one elbow, and gave me her beautiful smile, “…and I need someone to braid my hair along the way.”

“I took the liberties of explaining your mission as well, seeing as he was a fellow harper, and he seemed to understand your need of my knowledge. He recommended that if I choose to continue to the Calim Desert that I stay close to you. He even gave me a short speech on the power of love and its superiority to the necromancer’s power.”

“Oh! The cleric told you about love and how you needed to stay close to me, well that’s almost like a command from the gods. But what would you offer me to have my closeness.”

In my best Beyor, speaking in elfish, impersonation, I clenched my fists and raised my arms and said, “These two mighty hands to braid your hair.”

She laughed then grabbed my hands and wrapped my arms around her slim waist, “I accept your offer, and you may use those arms to hold me for ALL the nights.”

“All the nights”?

“Yes, Rolan you may hold me for all the nights.”


	15. Chapter 13: Sylvanna - The Quest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their close call at the necromancer's keep, Sylvanna wonders what it would take to make Beyor a faithful and selfless life mate, and decides to set him three quests to prove himself to her.

I watched Su'riel and her mate. I had seen them in the woods for many days before we met the night the tieflings had tried to capture them. I did not think much of them at the time, they were two elves passing along on the road. The beast of a man that followed them was another issue. He certainly was pleasant to behold, but he was too loud, as he stomped everywhere, laughing, and generally shouting. He truly did scare away the game for miles all around, but nothing I could say would convince him. He claimed to be capable of hunting, but I have yet to see him catch anything but fish, and even a child can bring in fish.

Though he is as proficient at murdering men as he is saying the most crude and offensive things. I remember seeing what they had left of the highwaymen. I was glad to see the highwaymen murdered in the midst of another crime, they were evil. Several of us rangers had reported them to the Daggersford town guard and even the Lady of Daggersford’s personal captain, but nothing was done. I recall examining the tracks of that battle. The tracks told of story of three powerful warriors, but Beyor has a certain wild recklessness about him. Su'riel is lethal if she can surprise her prey, and no one can argue with the power of a wizard, but Beyor’s strength and cunning looked like an owlbear or a pack of dire wolves. I know he has a certain cruelty about him, but his martial skill is still something to behold.

The tieflings were another matter. I’m not prone to consider a race based on one representative, but whenever I’ve tracked a group of tieflings through the Lady of Daggersford’s woods they were, every damn time, up to no good. Poaching the Lady’s deer, kidnapping travelers and taking them as slaves, among other things. This pack of tieflings did seem to be directly tracking Su'riel and her mate, so I may have been too harsh on them. I had captured one of them when he strayed too far from his brothers, however, before I could get him to tell me anything the other tieflings had found us. After that, they knew I was tracking them.

Now that I have been with Su'riel and her pack for several days, I see that the tiefling could have been telling the truth. There is a certain level of mayhem that tends to occur around this pack. I will ask Su'riel later if what the tiefling said was true. I would not turn them in for a bounty, gold is of little concern to me, and Su'riel and her mate have demonstrated themselves to be good and noble elves, and Su'riel has done me a great kindness, particularly as she now considers me her sister.

I am still ashamed of what I had done. When I first camped with this pack I was surprised by how loud and disruptive they were, even moments before they slept. But to watch Su'riel and her mate was something else. He would braid her hair. The first time I saw this, I remember the jealously that filled me. Su'riel reminded me of a dumb animal, her expression was one of pleasure like Dahlia would get when I pet her in just the right spot. But her mate earnestly cares for her, carefully braids her hair twice a day, while he talks to her in their beautiful elvish tongue.

I suddenly desired to be Su'riel. To add insult to injury, Beyor spoke of nothing but how he desired my body for his own limited pleasure, but here was a man that truly cared for his mate, asking nothing selvish in return. I knew it was not mine to take, but I longed for that sort of attention. I also thought her mate wouldn’t mind, it wasn’t sexual in nature –– it was just a simple act. As a child, my father braided my hair. I reasoned with myself that I was part of this pack now, and to ask such a small kindness seemed acceptable and my feelings in the matter would have been different than Su'riel’s mate. For him it was just simply braiding hair, even if for me it was to feel loved and cared for. So I waited, they talked intimately, she lay on his chest and slept for nearly an hour. When she began her trance I tried to silently walk over, and as I approached, her eyes flashed open. The look she gave me was terrifying.

I recall once I saw a bear chance upon a wolverine. The bear was much greater in height and strength than the wolverine, but the wolverine made such horrible noises and attacked without hesitation, it sent the bear running. I felt like that bear waiting for Su'riel the wolverine to strike. There was nothing to do but confess. I did not state my reason, for again I knew I was wrong, it was something intimate between her and her mate. I was ashamed that I had deceived myself otherwise. Su'riel told me to find my own man to braid my hair. I remember looking over at Beyor and thinking how hard it would be to train him. His desire is only sexual, I thought, until today. Today was the first time he had shown any true capacity to think of me before him.

Su'riel had implied that training Beyor would be like training Dahlia. When I first considered this idea I was overwhelmed with the difficulty that might prove to be. Dahlia had been a smart and intuitive pup. As she grew, she and I understood each other better. Though when we started, I would sometimes use food to train her, but this became unnecessary over time. It occurred to me to use sex to train Beyor, but this was unlikely to be effective. I knew the type of man that Beyor was, once he had gotten what he wanted he would, at best, move on to the next woman, or at worst, despise me. Beyor was not like Su'riel’s mate. She could train him with a simple glance or touch, and of course Su'riel’s main strength was in her speech.

Su'riel saw my discomfort and she forgave me. I did not wish to get between her and her mate, and I suddenly realized that was exactly what I was doing. But Su'riel braided my hair and called me sister. I have rarely been around anyone that would demonstrate such kindness. I told her that if I had been her, I would have killed the woman that tried what I had done, but she assured me that it was an acceptable mistake. I know I was wrong, but Su'riel made me feel better for it.

This was another thing I envied in my new sister. Aside from her relationship with Rolan, I also envied Su'riel’s ability to speak. She could convince a man to do nearly anything for her, and when she spoke or sang it was like she way setting a snare to capture the hearts of men and women. I wished I could speak like that. But I have been removed from people for too long and my father had taught me that honest people speak little. The rangers also have a saying, “The less said on the trail, the better the hunting.” But I still wish I could speak like her.

Though I must admit Su'riel is like Beyor in a way. Each of them is cruel in their strength. I was absolutely dismayed when I saw Beyor and Rolan fight. I thought he was going to kill Su'riel’s mate. Even as I restrained Su'riel, I knew that if Rolan was my mate I would have murdered Beyor, murdered him and then drowned him and likely cut the body in pieces to be certain. I was truly worried the halfling was going to give Su'riel the crossbow as that would have been impossible to stop. And Beyor would have deserved it, because not only was he cruel as he pummeled his friend, he was cruel as he spoke about Su'riel. Su'riel, however isn’t much better, today she tricked Beyor into confessing about the many times he has had sex with women and how trivial and insignificant they were. I know Su'riel did this, in part, for my benefit, but I already knew that Beyor had laid with many women and those women meant nothing to him. I also knew I would not join their ranks. It was still cruel of Su'riel. She apologized for his act to me, she told me that she only desired to hurt Beyor. I tried to tell her that I understood, but I wish she would be kinder toward him. I do not know if she understood.

I could accept that I would not be Beyor’s first, as he would not be mine. I had been with other men before. As a young girl I had met a man much like Beyor in a tavern in Daggersford he spoke like Beyor in very flattering ways, but when the morning came he had other places to be. He also treated me like a simpleton because of the way I spoke. The next night he had another woman, and a few days later I saw him along the trail beset by highwaymen. I am ashamed to admit that I did nothing for him, I reasoned that how would a simpleton know to help a man. The highwaymen left him destitute, naked, and near death in the wilderness. He, like Beyor, was beautiful to look upon, but he could never protect me, or provide for me or a child. I later found his body on the trail, I knew that I had left him to die and I was sorry for it, but I learned a great lesson that day that looks are deceiving and men should be carefully chosen.

A season or so passed and I fell in love with a fellow ranger. We built a cabin near where my father and I had lived. He loved me. We patrolled the woods for the Lady of Daggersford, we received our annual stipend and provided for ourselves from the bounty of her woods. We had planned to have a family, but these dreams were ruined by an owlbear. We had found its cave and believed it an easy thing for two Rangers and a wolf to kill. We were terribly wrong.

I reached down from my hammock and felt Dahlia’s soft fur. It took me a moment, but I could still feel the scars from where the Owlbear had grabbed her. As I touched the scars she let out a mournful sigh. I too bear scars from that day. I lost much that day. I lost my mate, I miscarried my child, but Dahlia survived. It was just Dahlia and I for several more seasons.

There was a wood elf that took a fancy to me. I lived with him for nearly five seasons. He loved me, he often claimed I was the most elf like human he had ever met. He taught me to speak elvish, and showed me more about the land then I ever knew. One day though, he explained to me that ow elves are like trees as they grow and live for centuries, but humans are like grass, green and beautiful for only a season, and they wither and die too soon. One night he was there, but when morning came he was gone.

I am approaching thirty seasons now. I want to have children, and Beyor is big and strong and good to look upon. Any child I bore him would likely be capable, strong, able to hunt, gather, and protect himself or herself. But I will not raise it alone, and I will not be another night of selvish pleasure for a man that lives only for himself. If Beyor wants me to be his warrior goddess for one night, then he must swear allegiance to me for life! I don’t desire to be worshipped, just loved exclusively.

I watched Su'riel and her mate a little longer, they were laughing and teasing each other. Rolan spoke like Beyor in elvish. And Su'riel laughed and then quoted words similar to my own. I felt another flash of jealousy. All I wanted was a man that would love me and be true and faithful. It vexed me so that Su'riel had true gold, while the gods offered me fool’s gold. My father told me that when the god’s give us something inferior we can take that thing and make it better. For a man that raised a daughter after his mate died in childbirth these words had great meaning. I thought about how I could make Beyor better.

Su'riel had sung a song about a woman that had many men attempting to win her love, so she sent the men on three quests to determine which was her Champion, and worthy of her love. Perhaps I could do that with Beyor. 

Today he had proven himself willing to sacrifice himself for me. He promised me his arms, and then, like a sign from the gods, he nearly lost them when he pushed me out of the way of that stone. Tomorrow I would tell him that I accept his offer. I just don’t know exactly how I will tell him. I watched Su'riel and her mate a little longer; I wished I could speak like her.

I reached down and ran my fingers through Dahlia’s soft fur. I would think of something in the morning. What would the three quests be, though, I wondered. I needed Beyor to prove to me that he could do something selfless, more than just push me out of the way of a trap, but something like Su'riel’s mate braiding her hair. That would be the first quest, Beyor would learn to braid my hair, and do it every night and every morning. Then Beyor must prove he can hunt.

Many Rangers are not considered full Rangers till they have hunted and brought down a white stag, so Beyor must bring me a white stag that he hunted and slew. He would prove he was selfless, capable of hunting, ans… I needed him to prove he would be exclusively mine, but I don’t know how to test one’s faithfulness. I would have to think more about this, hopefully it would come to me in the morning.

Morning came and no great Su'riel-like speech had come to me, nor had a third quest. I took my share of the morning rations and brushed my hair watching Su'riel and her mate, thinking about what Su'riel might say.

Beyor called my name, bringing me out of my thoughts, “Hey Sylvanna, I still got these two arms that can hold you for all the nights, and I’ve already shown I can make you scream my name.”

He is vulgar and a brute and only seems to know one thing, I thought, but Dahlia was feral when I took her from her mother. Now was the time. I was wearing just my long tunic as I walked over Beyor.

“Stand up Beyor,” I commanded him.

The cleric was sitting next to the halflings, “What is this all about?”

“Oh Beyor tries ta bed Sylvanna and Sylvanna generally knocks ‘im on ‘is ass –– sometimes verbally, sometimes physically,” the female halfling replied.

“That sounds as entertaining as your songs.”

“Aye it ’tis.”

Beyor stood in front of me, he was several inches taller than me, and the last time we had been face to face I was wearing my boots which put us almost eye to eye. I gave up on trying to think of the right words, I’m poor with words, and Beyor really understands one thing. I grabbed his hands and placed them on my breasts. He looked me in the eye, then looked down at my chest then looked me in the eye again. I carefully slid his hands down my sides till they rested on my waist. I waited a moment for him to stop looking at my breasts and look at eyes again.

I know the whole camp was watching us. I heard the cleric ask, “Does that happen every day?”

And the female Halfling replied, “Nay, Ida ‘ave thought she’d cut ‘is arms off afore she let ‘im touch ‘er.”

I took a deep breath and told him, “If you want to hold me all your nights.” He still stared at me in wide eyes, I had to think though of what next to say, or how to say it, “You must go on three quests for me.”

“What? If I go on three quests you’ll finally have sex with me.”

I shook my head.

“No. I will be your life mate.”

Beyor took a long time to consider, “So three quests to show my strength and by nightfall we’ll be sharing bedrolls, and knocking boots.”

I shook my head again, “You must prove you can be selfless, hunt, and be faithful.”

Su'riel whispered to Rolan in elvish that he needed to get out the paper and take notes.

Beyor looked annoyed, “Alright Sylvanna, but yesterday I nearly lost my arms for you, so I’ve already done one quest, right?”

I paused, that was an act worthy of note, but I needed to tell him that was why I was considering let him try to be my champion. “That showed potential,” I thought for a moment, “I want you to show me daily.”

I let go of his right hand and guided him by his left hand over to where Su'riel and her mate sat. “I want you to braid my hair.”

Beyor looked at me as if I was a simpleton or insane. I worried I had said something foolish. I looked over at Su'riel. She was smiling and practically glowing. I then looked at the halflings and the cleric. They were laughing, but I wasn’t sure if it was at me. I began to feel ashamed. Dahlia barked at the cleric and halflings, and they stopped laughing.

Su'riel’s mate interjected, “Beyor, sit down. Braiding hair is simple. I will teach you. Unless you are afraid someone will think you are less of a man because you take care of your woman.”

This is the man I need Beyor to be, one who is smart and knows when to speak and prevents me from feeling humiliated. But Beyor was still unmoving.

“Beyor, if Sylvanna asked you some great and awesome feat of strength to prove your love, you would do it right?” Su'riel spoke in a kind and reassuring tone. I had never heard her talk to Beyor like that.

“Yeah,” I sensed Beyor was suspicious.

“She is asking a small service of you, something that is humble, but means a great deal to her.”

Beyor still seemed wary that Su'riel would trick him. “Elf, are trying to trick me again?”

“No. Beyor, for Sylvanna’s sake I’m trying to help you see that she wants you to be her life mate, but you need a lot of work before she is willing to commit herself to you.”

Beyor laughed his loud game-frightening laugh, “Well why didn’t you say that, elf? You generally use your words to get me in trouble. It’s a surprise when you try to help me.”

“Keep in mind that I’m doing it for her.”

Su'riel is a good sister, but I wish she were kinder toward Beyor.

“Sure, sure, All right let’s do this thing.” Beyor clapped his hands, and sat down next to Su'riel’s mate.

Su'riel’s mate explained how to undo the braid, brush out the hair and then he explained how to do the braid that Su'riel preferred for traveling during the day. That wasn’t my preferred braid, but it was a good place to start. Beyor began to brush my hair out and Su'riel saw my look of pain, and she told her mate that she had figured Beyor’s love making was like his fighting: swift, direct, and merciless; and now it appeared his hair styling was the same way. After the third agonizing stroke I reached back and smacked his arm. Su'riel’s mate saw me hit him, and told him to be slower and gentler. Su'riel made another cruel comment about how I was going to be telling Beyor that a lot for all our nights, and that I was in for a disappointing and painful first night with Beyor. I looked over at Su'riel and asked her in elvish to stop.  Both Su'riel and her mate stared at me for a moment.

“You speak elvish”? Su'riel asked. She was blushing, and now she had the wide eyed look of the rabbit in the snare

“Yes.”

“Oh Sylvanna I am so sorry, I didn’t know, I wouldn’t have…I shouldn’t…” Su'riel seemed at a loss of words.

“If Beyor is to succeed he’ll need help.” Again the barbarian pulled too hard and I let out a gasp of pain and hit his arm. Su'riel’s mate reached over and demonstrated how to brush hair. With each stroke I could sense the love and attention that Su'riel daily receives, the things I desired. Beyor tried again, it was an improvement, but it wasn’t much better.

“Sylvanna, I admit I’m a little hard on Beyor, but if these are truly his quests, then they must be his to either succeed or fail at. That is the way that quests for love must be, or else he is not worthy of you. And I hate to give away the end of a story before it’s told, but Sylvanna, my sister, he is not worthy of you.”

Again the barbarian nearly pulled the hair out of my head, this time I grabbed his knee and squeezed it till he let out an oath to one of war gods. “He will not succeed because he is worthy,” I had tears in my eyes, “The quests will make him worthy.” Mercifully Su'riel’s mate told him he had brushed my hair enough, and it was time to braid.

“The quests will make him worthy! Oh, Sylvanna I have to write a song about this. Please let me write a song about this. Your quests to make Beyor a worthy man is the stuff of great ballads. I’m a bard. This is, to me, is like going on a great hunt.” She looked excited and I could tell this was important to her.

“Promise me that your mate will help.”

“Done”

“Wait. Do I get a say in this?” her mate interjected.

“Quiet you. Rolan will help Beyor, now will you allow to write this song?”

“Promise that you will be kinder to Beyor.”

“I’ll try.”

“Su'riel. No. you will be kinder to Beyor.”

“Sylvanna you know he provokes me, and before you came to our party he alternated between telling me that I was unattractive and crudely suggesting that he would still have sex with me.” Her reminder that Beyor treats every woman as an opportunity to have sex reminded me that this was going to be a difficult task, and a I still need a third quest to prove his faithfulness.

“He speaks his mind. You choose words like arrows.” I told Su'riel.

“Alright, Sylvanna, I’ll be kinder to Beyor, at least while he is on your quests, but when he fails…”

“If he fails. And you should still show him kindness.”

“Yes. Fine. Sylvanna. I promise everything you asked. Rolan will help, it’s something he likes to do, and I will be kinder to Beyor. Now please, before you make me agree to go on three quests, let me write this song.”

“I would like one more thing.”

“Beyor had better make this song worth it, what is it Sylvanna?”

“When you write this song, make my words like yours.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“When I speak if it is with few words, sometimes too few.”

“This would be a case in point.”

“But when you speak every word is perfect.”

“Okay, I’m still not sure I understand what you want.”

“I want my words like yours, perfect and full of grace, beauty, and power.”

Su'riel looked up at her mate, and then he told me, “Sylvanna there is nothing wrong with the way you speak. Your economy of words can lead to some confusion, I will admit, but that is part of who you are. To not include that in the song would make it less your song. To alter who you are for the song would also take away from it. I am certain though, that Su'riel will write you perfectly and you will be surprised by the grace and beauty of your words.”

I nodded. Men like Su'riel’s mate usually treated me like I was a simpleton, he always spoke to me like he did everyone else. He had a kindness about him, and a desire to help, although sometimes his help was unnecessary. Still, if I had one wish I would wish I was Su'riel.

“Yes.” I told Su'riel.

“Yes, I can write your song?”

“Yes.”

Su'riel then asked me to tell her more about the quests. She wrote down much of what I said. I explained about my desire to have Beyor prove himself in three ways, and how each quest he performed would do that. First he had to prove himself able to be selfless and put my needs first by braiding my hair. Second, he had to prove he could hunt by bringing down a white stag. And the third quest was to prove himself faithful exclusively to me, but I did not know how he could do it. Su'riel told me she would help me, but agreed it would be difficult. She then suggested I just make him promise not to laugh any more. I explained how when you properly train a beast you should not break its spirit or take away from who it is. Beyor’s laugh, as much as it caused problems was part of him. Su'riel’s mate tried to tell us that Beyor wasn’t exactly an animal that needed to be trained, but Su'riel pointed out how he had a particular singleness of mind, and most of what he did was physical in nature. I agreed with her, but reminded her to be kind.

As we spoke Beyor had tried twice to braid my hair, and ultimately Su'riel’s mate did it for him. Su'riel’s mate explained it had taken him a long time to learn and he had nearly a dozen sisters and cousins to practice on. I could not imagine having that many brothers and sisters. Beyor had also grown curious of what we were all saying in elvish, Su'riel’s mate assured him it was mostly women talk. Beyor then asked if it was talk about him and Su'riel’s mate told him it was more about love songs and how to train animals, and he would find it boring. Beyor agreed.

We had a late start that morning. I know it was because of me, but the rest of the pack did not seem to mind. I think the day in the Necromancer’s keep had taken a toll on all of us. We traveled without incident to the ford where Su'riel’s mate and Beyor had fought a few days previous. It was already late in the day and we could easily reach Daggersford the following day so we agreed to camp here again. The men decided to try their luck fishing, and once more the male halfling produced beer from his bag.

Su'riel, the female halfling and I found a shady spot with a few rocks near the water. We were supposed to be gathering herbs, berries and tubers for the evening meal, but at Su'riel’s suggestion we decided to take a moment and soak our feet. I noticed Su'riel had waited till we were out of sight of the men, such was her mischievous way. However we could still hear them as I took off my boots, armor, sword belt, quiver and arrows. The water was so cool and refreshing I was tempted to swim. Su'riel removed her boots as well. She wore dagger sheaths that fit on her thighs, these were normally concealed by her long boots. Either because she had removed the boots, or because she was also tempted to swim she decided to leave her daggers and boots with my weapons. As we took off our weapons and boots Dahlia drank some of the water from the stream then sat down with our equipment.

As we sat on the rock talking I noticed that Su'riel had taken her mate’s traveling cloak. She explained how it was his prized possession and so she borrowed it. She had some curious logic about how her having this thing of his meant she was equally or greater prized to her mate.

I examined the cloak, it was made of fine material, but it also had several rips, tears, burn marks, the left side had a significant cut, and there were blood stains on the left side, as well as wine and ale stains. It had also been shot with crossbow bolts. I questioned Su'riel if she really thought it was prized. She assured me it was then put the hood of the cloak on and asked if made her more secretive and sensual. The female halfling suggested that if she really wanted the cloak to make her secretive and sensual she should wear nothing under it, and then see if it didn’t make her mate prize her more. Such was the mischievous way of the halfling. I confess this whole thing made me laugh and that is when Su'riel and Joy stared at me and pointed out that was the first time they heard me laugh. I was actually surprised myself.

Dahlia gave a warning bark. The tieflings had returned. As we stood up, a hooded man came out of the woods near our equipment. He reached for my longsword but Dahlia grabbed his arm and pulled him away. He let out several curses as she drug him down and began to shake his left arm fiercely. He tried to hit her with a rock but she bit harder on his arm.  A tiefling dropped from the trees and tried to grab Su'riel, she was too quick for him and threw him down into the shallow part of the stream. Joy had found a large tree branch and as he stood she hit him across the chest knocking him into the deeper part of the stream. He floundered and tried to stand, then tried to swim but it appeared his armor and weapons were weighing him down. I tried to get to my weapons as two arrows came across the stream one landed at Joy’s feet and another at mine. I looked across the stream and two tiefling archers were now there each with arrows ready to launch.

Adron, the pack leader, and another tiefling stepped out of the woods. The second tiefling grabbed Su'riel in a barrel hug. She gave a little hop and bashed her head into his nose. Blood began to pour out his nose and down the hood and back of cloak that Su'riel was wearing. I am not given to superstitions but I was starting to believe that cloak was cursed by the gods. The tiefling now lifted Su'riel off of the ground and ensured her head was too low to try that again. She began to kick his shin fiercely.

“Stop!” Adron commanded. Dahlia still growled, but the hooded man’s curses had given way to cries. Su'riel actually paused for a moment. “Stop or my archers will kill your friends where they stand.” He motioned to one of the archers, “go, get your brother.” He then turned back to Su'riel “I assure you, even one of my archers is enough to put down both your friends.”

This was odd, he was sending his archer toward our men. This pack of tiefling were always very careful, but this time they seemed to have sprung their trap too early, their leader did not account for our whole pack, and they weren’t coordinated. It was unlikely that they knew the men were downstream. Also these tiefling watched over each other like family, except their leader did not seem to care for the welfare of the hooded man. I also knew they were instinctively violent.

“Joy, swim.” I called out

Joy jumped in the water before the archer could react. He tried to hit her, but the water made his shot go astray. I placed my hand behind my back to draw a weapon I did not have. I knew this would draw the Archer’s attention. When I heard the bow string snap I stepped back and plucked the arrow from the air, then I moved to the other side the tiefling that held Su'riel and I shoved the arrow under his jaw.

“Let her go.” I used the point of the arrow to draw a small amount of blood. He released Su'riel and she stood there ready to fight.

Adron looked at me. “You are the most odious human I have ever met. I hate you, ranger, you’ve tracked me and my men more silently than a wood elf. You humiliated my brother by capturing him, and even when you are disarmed and naked you still manage to find a way to gain the advantage. I respect you as a warrior, but I will not be bested by you again.” He drew his sword and I whistled for Dahlia. She let go of the hooded man’s arm took two steps away and then jumped on Adron’s back. As the tiefling tripped and fell Su'riel stepped out his way and grabbed his sword. She then kneeled down beside him and rolled him over to side and put his sword point under his chin. Su'riel was careful to use the tiefling as a shield between her and the archer while maintaining enough leverage to stab him.

I saw that Dahlia had returned to the hooded man but now she just stood over him growling while he cradled his injured arm. I carefully turned my tiefling so I could see the archer. He was trying to aim at Su'riel but I could see the doubt in his eyes.

“Tell your archer to throw his bow in the water.” Su'riel told the tiefling.

The tiefling was livid. He said nothing as he tried to think of some way out of this situation. “You have forgotten my other archer and warrior are still out there.”

The Joy’s mate suddenly appeared behind the archer and knocked him down, then took his bow. As he tried to stand Joy’s mate stood on his head and laughed. A moment later, Beyor appeared with the second archer. This archer’s hands were on his head and Beyor had one hand on top of his hands, and the other hand he had his battle axe, ready to swing.  Joy, the cleric and Su'riel’s mate came up on our side of the bank. Between the cleric and Su'riel’s mate was the last tiefling. He looked wet and humiliated. I believe this is the one I had captured earlier.

The cleric, looked around, “What happened here? No, wait. Sylvanna call off your wolf. Beyor, Scotty, bring those two over here. Rolan go help them. Ladies make them kneel.” Su'riel helped her tiefling up as I gave another whistle to Dahlia, then I kicked the knee and stepped on the calf of my tiefling, he grunted as he went down. In a few minutes all five of the tieflings and the hooded man were kneeling beside the river bank. Their weapons were piled behind them. I put my weapons and boots back on. I thought that I should always have a dagger on me, perhaps I would get a thigh sheath like Su'riel or maybe it was best to keep a dagger in the small of my back on a thin second belt.

The Cleric interrogated the tiefling and the hooded man. He had a strange way that made people want to tell him things, or he could just guess. He learned of the incident at Watersdeep. It seems that Su'riel and her mate had indeed caused a large bar fight when Su'riel tricked Adron into punching the hooded man, and then her mate had ignited a vat of whiskey, resulting in the bar burning down.  I doubted this was malicious or even intentional as this was generally how things happened with them. Su'riel and her mate tended to be the source of general destruction and havoc wherever they went – however unintentional. The cloak bore evidence of all of these episodes of mayhem.

Initially the tieflings had borne the brunt of the blame for the tavern fight, but all parties agreed Su'riel’s mate had caused the fire. The next day the tieflings and the hooded man, who called himself Poison, had convinced the other bar patrons that this was all caused by Su'riel and her mate. The patrons all contributed to have the tavern repaired, as well as enough money for a bounty on Su'riel and her mate. Su'riel was disappointed to learn that it was only 50 gold for both of them, but she was glad to hear that they had to be alive. The cleric questioned the value of the pursuit, especially how they would only get little more than 8 gold coins each. Then the bounty hunter told of his experience at Daggersford and how his sword was stolen, he was stabbed and then thrown out of the bar. He asked about his sword, but the Cleric reminded him that when you engage in bounty hunting, it can go both ways.

Adron spoke for his pack, he told the cleric of the experiences that he and his brothers had. How they attempted to stalk Su'riel and her mate as they left Watersdeep. They knew that I was also stalking them, but only after I had captured one of their pack. They thought I was a wood elf, the idea that a human would be able to silently stalk, capture and later best them was inconceivable. They had a begrudging respect for the ranger cadre around Daggersford before, but now it had grown. They had some peculiar infernal name for me that I think meant wood demon.

The tiefling explained that they had continued to track us from a distance, but this time they decided to bring in the other bounty Hunter to improve their odds. I was not surprised the tiefling lied to me about leaving the woods. It turned out the tiefling did not count on the bounty hunter being so sloppy, or unable to follow directions. When the tiefling leader heard us he started to carefully draw a circle around us, but he was also searching for the other half of the pack. The tiefling had warned the bounty hunter of me, so when he saw my weapons he rushed to grab them, this is probably what alerted Dahlia to their presence. The rest, Su'riel, Joy and I explained; mostly Su'riel though.  

The cleric was amazed that I had caught an arrow, but the tiefling archer himself confirmed it, and then replied that was why they called me a wood demon. Half naked and weaponless, my wolf and I had bested three heavily armed tieflings. I tried to explain that Su'riel was part of that but the cleric just shook his head and chuckled calling me “Sylvanna the wood demon”.

The cleric allowed each man take a dagger and sent them on their way without their weapons. He then told the human bounty hunter to have his hand examined by a doctor as his injury looked grievous. We placed their weapons into the halfling’s magic bag as we waited for them to go upstream. We crossed the river and walked along the shallow parts of the river to conceal our tracks. After a short walk, Joy’s mate reported that the fishing looked better so we broke for camp.

This time as the men fished we foraged around the area, we were all certain to stay where we could see each other. We kept our fire small and only for cooking as the sun went down we were quick to extinguish it. Joy and Su'riel still sang songs to entertain us, and Su'riel even worked on the “Ballad of Beyor’s Quests,” as she was calling it.

When Su'riel had her mate brush her hair, I led Beyor next to them, and handed him my brush. Again Su'riel’s mate patiently explained the process and Beyor started again, this time he was slightly gentler.

“Alright Sylvanna, how long are you going to make me do this? Till I get it right?”

“No. All the nights, and all the mornings.”

“What!? I’ve been with plenty of women-“ Su'riel interrupted Beyor with a strange clear little cough.

Beyor looked over at Su'riel and she shook her head. This was much kinder of her and I thanked her in elvish. He began again, “So I’ve got to do this to show you that I can be selfless, and I get nothing out of it.”

“Perhaps you will get something.”

“What?”

Now I had to think, I needed something like that small bit of food like I had used to train Dahlia when she was a pup. I looked over at Su'riel and her mate. He had already finished and he had leaned back on his pack and Su'riel was reclining on his chest. Her mate held her close, and she was watching Beyor with an amusement dancing in her eyes, looking quite content.  

“Finish and see,” I replied to his question.

Immediately he threw the braid over my shoulder, it actually looked acceptable. It could have been tighter, but for a man who had never braided before this was a great an improvement. Perhaps he wasn’t such a stupid animal.

“Now what do I get?”

I turned around, pushed him down so he was leaning over like Rolan and then I laid my back against his chest and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“So what I braid your hair, and now I get to hold you?”

“For now.”

“This is it?” He slid his hand up and began to try and fondle my breast, I smacked it back down. He was still sort of a stupid animal.

“You still have two other quests.”

“But I have completed my first quest?”

“If you agree to braid my hair like Rolan, Morning and night.”

“Sylvanna, you can’t be serious.”

“My life mate must be selfless, if he expects me to be selfless.”

“I don’t want my hair braided, Sylvanna.”

“Is that the only selfless act that I could do for you?”

“What? Wait. What are you saying?”

“Life mates give and take, but I need to know you will give before you take.”

“Dol Dorn help me. I wish I knew what you were saying, or maybe I do. This is confusing. Fine Sylvanna, I’ll braid your hair all the mornings and all the nights.”

“Then you should practice.” Before he could say anything I sat up, took out the braid and shook my hair out.

I heard Su'riel whisper to her mate that I really was her sister.

After he completed the braid again, I let him hold me till it was my turn at watch. I only had to bat his hands down three times before he began snoring.


	16. Chapter 14: Su'riel - The Ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party returns safely to Daggersford. Beyor makes an ass out of himself before setting out to complete Sylvanna's second quest. Eberek corners Su'riel and Rolan into participating in an unexpected ceremony that will change their lives forever.

We had made it to Daggerford without incident. Though watching Beyor trying to perform his first quest was highly entertaining. Sylvanna had really struck on something with her idea to make him a better man by having him perform three quests. He was becoming a more likeable person, and Sylvanna was beginning to let her guard down. She still wouldn’t speak more than a dozen words at once, but she would smile more, and she would even laugh occasionally.

Scotty and Joy insisted we revisit the tavern Scotty referred to as his “office”. It’s actually called “The Purple Drake”. When we walked into the Drake, Brunnie took one look at Beyor and ran as fast as her massive legs could carry her. She told him that if he waited a few minutes she could get a friend to cover the bar and they could “go upstairs.” 

Scotty and Joy suddenly distanced themselves from the rest of us as Sylvanna told Beyor, “Think about what you want to hold, and for how long.” Beyor looked at Brunnie, then he looked at Sylvanna, and I think he was trying to figure out what to say when Brunnie punched him with her ham-hock fist.

Rolan mentioned that we should probably find another inn, and Eberek agreed, confessing that he did not like eating food that had been spit on. So Eberek took us to another Tavern for our meal, it was much quieter, there was no real entertainment to speak of, but the food was warm and spicy and comforting.

Rolan had cast ray of frost on his water skin and Beyor was holding it to his swollen eye when he lamented, “This whole “life mate” thing seems to have no advantage. I got to braid hair like a big sister, I just got punched out by a barmaid who just offered to lay with me. And the next thing you have planned for me is to go hunt an animal that I’m not sure exists. When do things start going in my favor, Sylvanna? When am I going to be glad I’m your life mate?”

“When you wake up after many days and see me and know there will be many more.”

“That seems good, but I’ve been with you for many days already. I gotta be honest, if I had not been in the woods, and if I wanted, I could have a different woman each night, and wake the next thinking I could find another.”

“Then when you are old, and weak and blind, and you will have children bring you food and meat.”

Beyor laughed, “Yeah that’s great, but I plan to die in glorious combat, surrounded by defeated enemies. I will go down in a battle so epic, Freya herself will come and bare my to soul to Odin’s mead hall where I’ll feast until the last glorious battle of the gods.”

“I will not let my life mate fall in a fight, again.” 

Again? I looked at Sylvanna and could see that her eyes were starting to fill with tears. I looked at Rolan, he had heard it too.

I think Rolan was about to ask her for more details about her previous life mate when Beyor laughed dismissively, “Yeah, I’ve been in enough fights to know, when it’s your-“

Eberek’s eyes flashed, “Shut up you stupid Barbarian!” Beyor shut his mouth, looking like a child corrected by a parent. Eberek took on a much lighter tone, “Sylvanna, brave sister, did you lose your life mate before”?

She nodded her head as the tears welled up in her eyes. 

“Beyor, you are a fool and a brute.” Sylvanna began to whisper in a soft voice, her regular clipped speech was gone. “I would give you all of me. I would love you like you have never been loved before. All I ask is commitment. All I want is you to prove that you would not treat me like those whores that you lay with one night and then forget the next. Don’t you see, you damn jackass, I no longer want to be alone, and I choose you. But you are a stupid animal chasing whatever is front of you ignoring what is beside you. I would gladly bear you strong children to carry on your warrior name, and I would be exclusively yours. Every night you could have this body, and every day we would care for each other. I would follow you to the ends of the earth or make a home for you in the woods. But if that is not what you want then go back to that fat cow harlot and roll with her till you’ve gotten what you’ve wanted or she has crushed you. I don’t give a damn either way.” 

She had stood up and was talking so the whole bar could hear. “But don’t waste any more of my time trying to prove you want to be anything to me when clearly you don’t. And don’t try to convince me that I mean anything to you. I don’t know what sort of woman raised you, but if your own mother failed to teach you how to love a woman, or why to love a woman, then I don’t know why I think I could.” By the end she was actually yelling, then she splashed her tankard of ale in his face, then she just threw the whole pewter tankard at him and began to stomp toward the exit. Dahlia barked twice at Beyor and followed her.

When she got close to the door one of the men at the bar tried to intercept her and said, “If ya don’t want a be lonely-“ She punched him without breaking stride. The man had crumbled to the floor before Sylvanna was out the door.

We all sat there looking at the door for a moment, then each other. In the week that I had known her that was more words than I had ever here say, at once or total. I stood up to go and Eberek grabbed my arm, “It might be best to let her cool off for a few minutes.”

“It’s okay, we’re sisters.”

“Do you have a shield?”

“Really Eberek, I don’t think she would-“ He nodded to the man on the floor. I thought I saw a few teeth a few feet away from his prone form. “I’ll be fine, I’m pretty sure.”

I was pretty sure, but I wasn’t fully convinced. I had never heard Sylvanna talk that much continuously. Beyor certainly brings out the worst in people. Rolan punched him, Sylvanna spoke more at one time than she does in a year, and I tried to mock him but hurt my friend more than I hurt him.

When I got outside I didn’t immediately see Sylvanna, and it occurred to me if she decided she didn’t want to be seen I would have a hard time finding her. Then another thought hit me, she may be gone. I might never see her again. I’m telling Rolan that we are not traveling with Beyor anymore. If I had to choose between Sylvanna and Beyor, I would easily choose Sylvanna. Beyor is great in a fight, but anything else and he is either offensive or a liability, usually both.

I started to look for Sylvanna. The sun had set and it was dark and cool in town. The streets were lit mostly by cast off light from the taverns, various shops, and some of the homes. I saw a small park with a few trees including a very large oak. As I got close I could see Dahlia. She watched me balefully. I walked under the tree and whispered Sylvanna’s name. A hand appeared, and when I grasped it Sylvanna pulled me up into the tree. She was sitting on a large branch and there was room for both of us.

“You want to talk”?

She gave me the quick little head shake.

“Are you going to hit me?”

Her head swung over at me in shock, “I would never hit my sister.”

I smiled at her, “I didn’t think so, but Eberek was worried.” I put my arms across her shoulders and gave her a hug. “I think he was surprised at how you laid that guy in that bar.”

“Another man that uses women”.

I honestly didn’t know what to say, we sat there for a few minutes.

“Sylvanna, how did you learn elvish.”

“I had wood elf mate once.”

“What happened?”

“After five seasons he left me.”

“Did he say why?”

“Elves are like trees and Humans are like grass.” I thought I heard her sobbing.

I actually knew this, it was an old Eleven proverb something that mothers who don’t want half elves grandchildren tell their children. The way it goes is, “Elves are like trees growing and learning for centuries, humans are like grass, only beautiful for a season.” It’s also something that some elves tell their humans when they grow tired of them and want to move on.

“Oh Sylvanna, I’m sorry.”

“Do you think Beyor will ever love me?”

“I think he does love you.” Just don’t ask me if I think he’ll ever be worthy of your love.

“But how will know if he will be faithful?”

I had no idea what to say, mostly because I didn’t think it was possible. I was tempted to remind her of what she said about training an animal versus breaking the animal’s spirit. Perhaps trying to make Beyor faithful was too much against his nature.

“Sylvanna perhaps he didn’t understand what you meant before when you said life mate. I think for him he was starting to view it as nights of drudgery braiding your hair, I don’t think he saw the other side of things until tonight.” 

You know, when you screamed at him.

“I thought life mate had only one definition.”

“Yeah well Beyor isn’t a real deep thinker, relationships outside of sex are strange to him.” I think Rolan started to explain this to me once, and now I sort of wished he was here to help me elaborate.

“Yes, he is all lust and passion.”

No thank you Rolan, your elaboration won’t be necessary.  

“Here” I had taken Rolan’s cloak again and I offered Sylvanna the corner of it to dry her eyes. “Sylvanna let’s go back to the tavern and see what Beyor has to say, he might surprise you.”

Sylvanna’s eyes got wide as I think she realized that she had said a lot of things to Beyor, some of it was nasty even by my standards. “Oh Su'riel, I said many unkind things. Do you think Beyor will be hurt?”

“I doubt it. I’ve said far worse to him and it never bothered him. I even threatened to castrate him, and he just laughed it off.” 

Though truthfully I never brought his mother into it.

“Let’s go.” She smoothly slid off the branch and out of the tree. I followed her, but as I landed I heard the sound of ripping fabric. Rolan’s traveling cloak had become snagged on a tree branch and now it had a large rip down the back.

As I examined the rip, trying to think of what I would say to Rolan, Sylvanna suddenly interjected, “I believe it is cursed.”

“What?”

“The cloak is cursed.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Have you ever seen such misfortune befall a cloak?”

No I hadn’t, but cursed?

“Sylvanna I never took you as the superstitious type.”

“I’m not, but the cloak is unlucky.”

We were back at the tavern now. When we walked in, Scotty and Joy had replaced Beyor. Sylvanna stiffened when she saw Beyor was gone. Several of the men at the bar turned, saw Sylvanna and turned right back around to their drinks. The man was gone, but his teeth were still on the floor.

As we walked up to the booth Scotty greeted us, “’ello, ‘ello. We ‘eard there was a bit of a fracas at this ‘ere ee’stablishment so we figured this must be where you lot ended up.”

Sylvanna looked around. “Where is Beyor?”

I looked over at Rolan. If Beyor had gone back to that elephant of a barmaid I was going to kill him.

“Sylvanna, Beyor said it was about time he went to find the white stag.” Rolan stated.

Sylvanna relaxed a moment. “Did he say anything before he left?”

Rolan and Eberek exchanged looks then Rolan said, “He stated he had never understood what you meant when you said ‘life mate’ until this very night. Now that he knew it was something he quite valued he desired to continue his quests.”

Sylvanna looked at Rolan for a long moment, “What exactly did he say”.

“Yeah, I could live like that. Looks like I gotta go find a white stag,” Eberek said in a passable Beyor impersonation.

Sylvanna nodded.

After another round of drinks we all decided to go our separate ways for the evening. Sylvanna would report to the Ranger cadre about the Necromancer and the abandoned keep, but she would look for us at the Harper’s Headquarters. Scotty and Joy had some accommodations that they weren’t real specific about, but if we wanted them we should try around “Scotty’s office.”  They told us that we should certainly come find them before we left town, and stated they would like to travel with us to Baldur’s gate.

Eberek insisted that Rolan and I stay with him in a Monastery on the outskirts of town. It wasn’t actually a monastery, but it appeared to be one. It served as the headquarters for the Harpers in and around Daggerford. It was a long walk from the tavern to the Monastery and Eberek took the opportunity to speak with us.

“Well Su'riel, I already know Rolan’s opinion, but what was your take on Sylvanna’s definition of life mate?”

“I hadn’t stopped to think about it, to be honest with you.”

“Hadn’t stopped to think about it! Sister, are you truly a bard? A brave warrior, your sword sister, who has saved you not once, but twice from tieflings and helped you destroy a necromancer, she bore her soul about a man that is almost incapable of loving her, and you couldn’t be bothered to stop and think about it?”

When he put it like that, it hurt a little. “I was a little busy talking ‘that brave warrior’ out of a tree,” I tried to defend myself.

“Oh, but sister, her words. Her words! They had such power and poetry to them. Did you not hear them? Did you not feel them?” He thumped his chest with his fist as he talked about hearing and feeling Sylvanna’s words. I wasn’t sure if Eberek was part bard himself or if he was just a powerful and charismatic preacher sort of cleric. It was all strangely stirring.

“Su'riel what does life mate mean to you?”

“It means…committed for life, forever.”

“Forever. Yes. Forever.” Eberek stopped and faced Rolan and I. We formed a strange triangle. “I want you to hold hands. Su'riel and Rolan, because I need you to think about these words and each other.”

“Su'riel, look at this man. Look at Rolan, who has loved you, and sacrificed for you and cared for you. Do you love him?”

I was looking at Rolan, holding his hands, and I could feel nothing but love. The power and tempo of Eberek’s voice had a strange effect. It was like an anthem that fills with you pride and courage, but this anthem filled me hope and love and admiration.

“And Rolan, do you love this woman, who has loved you, sacrificed for you and cared for you.”

“Yes. Certainly.”

“Su'riel, think about these words, would you want to spend all your days with this man? Would you wake from the one day to the next rejoicing to your god that you had many more opportunities to do so?”

Something in the cadence of his speech was intoxicating, I was slightly worried he could convince me to say that I loved anyone. Fortunately, Rolan, the object of my love and affection was standing in front of me, and there was no way I could answer anything but yes. He asked Rolan the same question and he also said “yes.”

“Now, would you raise children, share your fortunes, and at the end of your days look upon all you had built and done together and have that give you strength and light when your own has faded?” Again it was impossible for either of us not agree to the questions he posed.

“Would you be exclusive only to each other? Follow each other to the ends of the earth, or share a home till the end of your days? Take care of each other daily? Love each completely for all your days?” By now we were both simply saying yes in unison, and we couldn’t take our eyes off of each other. It felt like we were playing a song that was about to reach its crescendo. I glanced down and realized Eberek had his hands on top of ours, and it suddenly dawned on me…

“Then I pronounce you man and wife.” He then stepped back and both of us turned our eyes to stare at him. He began to motion with his hand, “You’re husband and wife now. Rolan kiss your bride, come on now, it is still official weather you do it or not, but it is bad form not to.”

Rolan leaned in and we kissed, it seemed weird to kiss in front of Eberek, but it was still electric.

“Alright then let’s get back to the monastery. We need to talk about a few things before your honeymoon night begins.” He turned to walk away.

“Yes we do. I can’t believe you just tricked us into marrying each other.” I was still holding Rolan’s hand as we started to chase after Eberek.

“Are you mad you’re married to a man that you just promised would be your life mate?” he asked over his shoulder.

“No, it’s just that-”

“Do you not plan to be exclusive to each other?”

“Well no,” I replied and then Rolan interjected, “See here, Sir, you can not just-“

“Help two people codify their feelings for each other in a form that is recognized by most major deities and government all over the world? Yeah. I can. I’m a cleric. It’s what I do.”

“Why would you-“

Eberek stopped and turned toward us, “That is the correct question, wizard, and that is why I love wizards, they always ask the right question. Why? Why would I marry you? I’m glad you asked. There are several reasons. First whenever I see two people in love, I personally love to marry ‘em. It’s one of the reasons I became a Cleric, to kill necromancers and marry people.” 

I had no idea if he was kidding or serious but his voice was going into that cadence again, I hoped he didn’t ask us to consummate our marriage then and there.

“The Second reason is because you are both powerful warriors for good. Oh wait, Rolan, you want to be Harper?”

“I had thought about it, and the idea appealed-“

“Perfect. You’re a Harper now, we’ll get the paperwork out of the way tomorrow, along with the marriage certificates. What was I saying? Yes. Powerful warriors for good, and powerful Harpers. Marriage means children, children means more warriors against the forces of evil. More of us against less of them means we win. I’m not saying you should get pregnant tonight Su'riel, you’re an elf, you got plenty of time to have children, I’m just telling you to make sure you take the time to do it.” 

I still had no idea if he was crazy or if this what he told everyone he married.

“Finally, and this is most important for you two. Both of you are on a collision course with the necromancer cult we met at that old keep. Rolan you may not know who they are, but they know you. They are looking for you and they want to exploit your connection to your uncle. I don’t know why, but I think we can all agree that you cannot allow it. As I told you before, love creates where death destroys. Love will always triumph but you two will need each other. 

“Su'riel the best chance for you to succeed in your mission is with Rolan’s help. Rolan I strongly suspect, the only way you will survive this quest is with Su'riel’s love. I also think whether you pursue this quest or not, the Necromancers will pursue you; so this woman’s love is paramount to your survival. No matter what, the deed is done though, you are bound together for life. Also, as a man of the cloth, I would be hesitant to allow you two to share a room in my monastery, even if I knew I couldn’t keep you apart, and even though it isn’t a monastery exactly, but that is another story. Anyways, a newlywed couple seeking a little shelter on their honeymoon? What sort of Cleric would I be if I didn’t help them?”

That was the most dizzying and strange string of logic I had ever heard but it was too late now, I looked over at my husband and he gave me a sheepish grin as he squeezed my hand. Soon we were at the monastery. It was a long rectangular building with an enclosed open air courtyard. Eberek led us through the courtyard, through the sanctuary and into the rectory. He disappeared leaving Rolan and I to stare up at the many stairs to the top of the tower.

“This day happening had never occurred to me,” Rolan whispered under his breath.

“What?! Seriously it never occurred to you to marry me?” The thought occurred to me a few times.

“It never occurred to me what we would be married.”

“Where did you think things were going between us?” I suddenly felt a flash of anger wash over me, I knew that this was very likely Rolan saying the wrong thing when he really meant something else, but I was having trouble controlling my feelings. I blamed Eberek for toying with our emotions.

“I think I had not stopped to think. Everything has been progressing quite quickly between us and the idea that we would be standing here married now was inconceivable to me. When you woke up this morning, were planning on getting married today?”

I wasn’t, but that was beside the point. I suddenly understood why Joy tended to speak just as much with her back hand as she did with words. 

“Don’t change the subject Rolan. We’re talking about you. Are you saying you didn’t plan to marry me?” I knew when I said this it was an unfair question.

“I believe it just was not the sort of thing I had thought about until now.”

“But,” Rolan continued as he reached out and held my hands, likely because he knew I was about to give him a Joy-style pummeling, “if I had thought of it, I would have thought what a good and pleasant thing it would be to be married. It would have been a very strong and driving desire. I apologize Su'riel, I have once more chosen my words poorly. Please forgive me, my wife.” 

He let go of my hands and slid his arms around my waist and pulled me close. Again my emotions shifted, and I felt guilty for thinking the worst of him. As he drew close, I anticipated the kiss, I waited for his lips to brush against mine and just as I felt his warm breath, Eberek cleared his throat.

We both turned to see Eberek with two bottles of wine and a basket with fruit, bread and cheese.

“Excellent. You two have already had your first fight as husband and wife. Most couples wait till after the honeymoon, but there are a lot of people who say make-up sex is the best. So well played, Rolan, well played indeed. I also see that Rolan has learned the first and last rule to marital disputes, ‘The Husband should just apologize.’” I swear Eberek was either completely insane, enjoyed making people feel awkward, or really did just love the institution of marriage and everything that it entailed.

“So, let’s keep things moving, shall we? At the top of these stairs is the old quarters for the father of the monastery. Historically that has been the quarters for the head Harper, but look at those steps, there are about 250 of them. No dwarf wants to climb up that many steps just to sleep at night. So I stay in one of the larger rooms near the kitchen.” He laughed “Anyway it’s a big room, with a big bed, and it’s yours for as long as you stay. And, here,” he handed me the basket and Rolan the wine, “Congratulations on getting married, joining the Harpers and thanks for saving me from that necromancer, I’ll call you around lunch time, and I don’t want to see you before I call you.” He then shook Rolan’s hand which caused him to nearly drop the wine, turned on his heel and disappeared back into the main monastery.

“Wait. How long can we stay here?” Rolan called after Eberek.

Eberek’s head came back into view from the door, “You WILL stay here about two weeks. You both could use some serious training. But we’ll talk more about that tomorrow, now climb those steps and go enjoy your honeymoon, before I start talking to you about making baby wizards and bards for the forces of good,” Eberek chuckled and disappeared again.

Rolan and I exchanged embarrassed looks, and then we laughed. He took me by the hand and led me up the stairs. It became obvious why Eberek chose not to use these quarters, the climb up was a little tedious, even in our excited state, but when we reached the top the room and the view was fantastic. Even though it had been a bedroom it looked like it was initially designed to be some type of observatory. There were large windows in every direction. We could see for miles around. Of course it wasn’t until our third or fourth night at the monastery that we really appreciated the details of the room. When we first entered, however, we did notice the accommodations were lavish, even by my standards.

“I am not certain I feel right bringing all of our dirty and worn things from the road into this room.”

I handed him the basket and my hairbrush, “Perhaps you should put these with the wine by the bed there and we’ll leave everything else by the door.”

As he walked over to the table I set down my pack, and removed my boots and my cloak, and then I just started taking everything off. It felt as if I had been holding back from Rolan for so long that I saw no reason to make him wait any longer. Rolan wordlessly joined me, and also began to undress.  When he was down to his cotton pants, and I was left with only my peasant tunic, Rolan reached over and untied the drawstring around my shoulders and kissed me tenderly. His lips met mine and a feeling of exhilaration rushed over my body. My heart began to pound rhythmically like the drum beat for a powerful march. I wanted to touch every part of him all at once. I ran my hands up his back and recognized I had never noticed the subtly defined muscles there. Each caress sent warmth and pleasure through my hands to the rest of my body. Rolan’s hands were now sliding up my sides and I found that his touch was sending waves of delight throughout my body, if that was even possible. When his hands reached my shoulders he stopped kissing me and moved his head so our foreheads were touching.

Rolan whispered to me, “I feel we have been rushing Su'riel, for some time, perhaps now is the time for us to slow down, and enjoy ourselves.” I nodded as he slid my tunic down my shoulders so that the tops of my breasts were peeking out. He looked longingly at my chest and ran his hand from the side of shoulder slowly lingering on my chest, then my waist, and finally he took my hand and led me toward the bed. I wasn’t sure what he meant by slow down but as we got closer to the bed, I realized I didn’t want to slow down.

Rolan stopped by the bed, and turned to me, but before he could say anything I jumped into his arms and knocked us both into the massive bed. We rolled on the soft silken sheets and once more our lips met and the loud powerful drums began to sound in my ears. Again I ran my hands down his back and sides reveling in the strength I felt there. I was enjoying the warmth and pleasure it sent through my body. I could feel him running his arms up the sides of my chest and touching every part of me, everything I wanted him to touch, and everywhere he touched excited me. Soon my tunic was gone and there was nothing keeping us from that glorious skin-to-skin contact.  I could feel his heart beating in time to mine and the drums were in time with both of us. Soon we had touched each other in the most intimate of ways and we knew each other as only lovers can.

Once we had reached the final refrain, I gazed wonderingly into Rolan’s eyes, which mirrored my expression precisely. We reveled in the time we had to simply enjoy holding and touching one another. Once we had caught our breath, Rolan poured us some wine, took my hair down and began brushing. We were still naked; I had no idea what had become of my tunic or Rolan’s pants, and I honestly couldn’t bring myself to care at that moment. I was sitting between his outstretched legs, sipping my wine and enjoying Rolan’s love and attention.

“Su'riel, I must say that was the sort of thing that could make a scholar give up books.”

“Ironically, it’s one of the things that makes bards write music. Maybe you should give up being a wizard and become a bard.” I looked over and gave him a mischievous grin.

“I would base my career on songs about that smile alone.”

“And you would be amazingly successful, because I have a smile that would make a scholar give up books.” I took another sip of wine. Whatever vintage Eberek had given us, it was good. I felt warm and happy all over.

Rolan finished the braid and slowly pulled me back onto his chest. He was reclining on several large pillows so even leaning on his chest I was still able to drink my wine. The windows gave us a gorgeous panorama of the night sky. He wrapped his arms around me and I felt absolutely loved.

“Rolan, do you remember the morning after you nearly died and we ended up at Scotty’s office tavern?”

“Yes. My love.” 

I liked that sound of that, I would like to hear more of that.

“You said something to me that morning before I began to meditate. Do you remember what it was?”

“I believe I said, I never thought of women as attractive until I laid eyes on you, and since then I have not been able to take my eyes off of you.” 

That is what I thought he had said, but hearing it now, with the wine and the stars, it made my head swim. I snuggled myself into him and, and he responded by holding me tighter.

“Does that make me the most attractive woman to you, or the only attractive woman?”

“You are my only, my love.”

I reached back and turned to my head so I could see him then I pulled his head to mine and I gave him another deep, longing kiss. “You are my only, as well.”

I then put my head back on his chest, and we laid there, taking in the moment, and I felt safe and secure and adored in ways I had never felt. I never thought much about what it meant to be in love, but at that moment I could feel Rolan reciprocate the affection, and desire that I had for him.   

After a few minutes of blissful embrace Rolan, broke the silence, “Su'riel, this has been an amazing evening, and truly is beyond my wildest dreams, but do you feel a little press-ganged by Eberek into marriage?”

“Yes, but I think we can both agree that you have no complaints.” 

The wine was making me feel a little…saucy.

“I have no complaints?”

I set my empty wine glass on the nightstand, and turned to face Rolan. “You shouldn’t, you’re sitting on a ridiculously comfortable bed, which has no right to be in a monastery, with the your one and only, the beautiful object of your obsession, who happens to be naked, a little drunk and about to ask you to show her what you meant when you said ‘take things slow’.”

“Ah, very good, yes. I have no complaints. Do you have any complaints?”

“Only if ‘taking it slow’ means you’re going to keep talking.” 

I then kissed him as he gently touched me and took his time to bring me the greatest pleasure I had ever known.

In the morning we woke up tangled in blankets, sheets and each other’s arms. It took several minutes to locate Rolan’s pants, but my tunic was nowhere to be found. After a while we gave up and figured it would turn up eventually. We pulled other clothes out of our packs, dressed, and then tore into the basket of food and drank the other bottle of wine as we discussed the events of yesterday. Rolan held my hand throughout the whole meal, and we were done we sat on the bed and he braided my hair as we talked.

“Su'riel, I am glad we are married”

“But?”

“I am just still surprised by the turn of events. It is a pleasant surprise, but I do not believe I have fully processed it.”

“I don’t think I have either, good thing we have a lifetime to figure it out.”

He squeezed my hand, “Yes a lifetime. I lament that I did not have a ring or other wedding gift for you.”

I suddenly remembered that I actually had wedding rings. I let go of his hand and dashed over to my pack. I pulled out the roll of fabric where I keep the jewelry my mother made. I carefully unrolled it on the table and selected the two silver rings. I slipped one onto my left ring finger, and offered the other to Rolan.

“You have been carrying wedding rings all this time.”

“I found them after my parents died. I thought they were for me when I turned 100, sort of a ‘go out into the world and find yourself a man’ thing from my mother. It was either that or they had been commissioned, but whoever had ordered them never came to collect them, so I kept them. Now they are our wedding rings.”   

“It is good to have these, but I still feel bad I have nothing to offer you.”

“Oh you’ll think of something, or I’ll find three quests for you to go on.”

“That sounds ominous”

“They will be, I’ll just have to figure out what you need to prove, so far you’ve pleased me but there is always room for improvement. Perhaps you should learn to dance or use contractions.”

I smiled at to let him know I was kidding, but the idea of teaching Rolan to dance suddenly appealed to me greatly. Rolan suddenly had a strangely pained look on his face, as if he knew that I was thinking about making him learn to dance.

“Rolan, I’m not going to make you learn to dance.” 

No. I’m going to make you want to learn to dance.

“It isn’t that, I was just thinking about my mother.” 

HIS MOTHER! Son of a bitch. I thought we were through with that. I drag him down the trade way, have him kill highwaymen, get shot and bleed out on me, nearly die, get into a fist fight with a barbarian who probably would have killed him, confront a Necromancer, and last night I’m pretty sure I made a man out of him, TWICE. If that doesn’t drive the mama’s boy out of him, I don’t know what well.

“Rolan,” I said very slowly and a little menacingly because Rolan sometimes needs that sort of hint, “what does your mother have to do with this?”

“One of my sisters ran off and married without telling her. I do not believe she will disown me like she did her, but she may be a little upset with us when we meet her.” 

Us? We? Meet her? Oh damn, I have a mother-in-law now. Oh! I hate that clericCleric.

“Perhaps it does not really matter. She told me not to go on this quest and assured me she would love me even if I came back empty handed. Now, I will not be empty handed, and even if she does disown me, I know I would rather have you.” 

Rolan’s relationship with his mother may not be as unhealthy or as debilitating as I thought, but if he ever mentions her during sex, I will hurt him. Hurt him bad.

Rolan began to admire his new ring, oblivious to everything that just went through my head, “The work in this ring is exquisite, it is a pity I could not meet your mother.” 

I hadn’t thought about it until now, and suddenly I was saddened. I was now thinking about my parents, and how I wished I could introduce Rolan to them. My opinion of Rolan and his mention of his mother was reversed.

I sat down on Rolan’s lap and wrapped my arms around his neck. He embraced me and I cried.

“Su'riel, I am sorry, I should not have mentioned your parents. I do not know what I was thinking.”

“Rolan you may talk too much, but I love you. Don’t ever change.”

He quietly held me till we were summoned to the courtyard. I smiled, at him and he smiled back, and gave me a handkerchief to dry my eyes. 


	17. Chapter 15: Rolan - The Mentor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rolan and Su'riel meet their new Harper mentor's and instructors and are surprised to find that they are not your run of the mill wizard and bard husband and wife team.

When we arrived at the courtyard Eberek was waiting for us. Behind him stood an ancient looking wizard clad in a yellow robe and an older woman with chestnut hair, streaked with gray. She had a slim dancer’s build. She also held a cane in one hand, giving her a rather severe appearance. The three stood behind a table with several official documents, a large open book, a coin with the harper emblem, and Su'riel’s tunic.

Eberek laughed as we approached, and I turned to look at Su'riel. She was blushing and staring at her tunic. 

“Here, I found this at the foot of the rectory tower. It appears it was tossed out the window last night.” He handed it to me. Su'riel and I exchanged sheepish looks, and the severe woman smiled faintly. The wizard merely shook his head.

“I need you both to sign this certificate of marriage. Rolan, I need you to add your name to the roll of Harpers and sign a few of these forms–– for life insurance, non-disclosure, etc. Also, this is your harper token. When you are asked to identify yourself as a harper, present this token, and you will find aid and comfort.” He handed me the token. It was a heavy metal coin with a harp on one side and a few other arcane symbols on the reverse.

I placed the coin in my pocket as Eberek continued, “This is Minerva,” he motioned to the woman behind him. “And Tobius. They are going to be teaching you more about your specific crafts. For the next two weeks I would like you to work with them during the mornings, and then you can work together or practice on your own in the afternoons. The evenings you may have to yourselves. Rolan I may need to work with you on the history and purpose of the Harpers, but fundamentally we should follow that schedule. Do you have any questions?”

Su'riel and I both shook our heads.

“Very well. Minerva, if you’ll take Su'riel into your studio, and Rolan–– you and Tobius can stay right here.”

I watched as Minerva and Su'riel began to walk. Minerva’s walk had a certain quality of grace and elegance that almost gave her the appearance of floating. I began to wonder why she carried a cane when she suddenly poked Su'riel between the shoulder blades and said very firmly, “Posture! Back Straight.” Su'riel’s back became straight and her walk altered and after a few more steps she swatted Su'riel’s hip with the cane. “Swing your hips–– when you walk into or out of a room, every man’s gaze should follow you.” They disappeared into one of the halls to the side of the courtyard.

I looked to Tobius, he was apparently watching the same episode. He turned his eyes to look at me and raised his eyebrows. “Where is your staff, boy? Or did you let your woman toss it out the window?”

“What? No. I do not have a staff, and why would you ask if Su'riel tossed it out the window?”

He used his to staff to gesture to her tunic that I still had in my hand.

“Have you ever had a woman toss your staff out a window?”

He suddenly had a wistful look in his eyes, “Not in a long time.”

He looked around and then stretched his arm out toward one of the corners of the courtyard. A broom flew into his hand. “You will use this for the morning, and this afternoon I suggest you find a staff.”

I looked at the broom and felt a little foolish. Tobius noticed my discomfort and told me, “The second rule of wizarding is, a wizard must be willing and quick to improvise. If it looks stupid but works, it isn’t stupid.”

He asked me what spells I would like to learn and I told him about the flame strike that I had seen Eberek conjure. Tobius explained that was a spell that may be a little too advanced for me, but he could teach me the basic foundations of that spell, and decided that I should first learn scorching ray. He explained it was not necessary to perform it with a staff but he wanted me to learn that as well. Tobius then conjured up a large man shaped cylinder of stone at the far end of the courtyard and demonstrated the spell.

As I attempted it, I thought I heard something musical that sounded like “Tobius.” My first try with the spell only managed to ignite the broom’s bristles. When, once again, I heard the musical sound, and I looked over at Tobius.

“I heard her, I heard her. Just put out your broom.”

I thought for a moment and began to cast cone of cold when I suddenly heard a shrill, “TOBY!”

“WHAT?” shouted Tobius. I jumped a little and was not paying attention to where my staff was pointing as the cone of cold launched into the air.

“I would like Rolan to join us in the studio, would you send him in, please?” Minerva and Su'riel were looking out of a window from the studio.

“NO!” Toby shouted at her. A bird fell to the ground, it appeared frozen.

“Did you mean to do that?” Tobius asked me.

“No. I believe I accidentally killed an innocent bird.”

“Well it was impressive, and the third rule to wizarding is, if you do something impressive on accident and anyone asks, lie through your teeth.”

“Wait. What was the first rule”?

“Oh, you don’t know the first rule of wizarding?”

As he was about to continue, we were interrupted, once again, by Minerva–– who was now standing next to Tobius. She looked demure, and said in a voice that sounded polite, but barely hid her anger, “Tobius, it is imperative to the education of Su'riel that you allow Rolan to join us in the studio.” She smiled in the most threatening way.

“Oh, so it’s imperative to the education of your student that mine join you?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s imperative to the education of my student that he not.”

Without speaking another word Minerva shoved her cane into Tobius’s stomach and when he doubled over she grabbed his staff and threw it across the courtyard.

She then turned to me, “Rolan, would you please join us.” I looked over at my instructor, he was doubled over and staggering toward his staff. He waved me off.

I began to walk toward the studio and I suddenly felt her cane across my shoulders, “Back straight, and do not bring that smouldering broom into my studio.”

“Are all bards this violent?” I asked her.

“No. Don’t ask stupid questions,” and she hit me with her cane–– again.

When we entered, Su'riel was sitting on the edge of a stage at the end of a large room, which must have served as a dining hall or auxiliary chapel when the monastery had served more pious purposes.

“Rolan, did you braid Su'riel’s hair?”

I kept a watchful eye on her cane as I answered the affirmative.

“Very good, I would like to show you a different technique for braiding her hair. Please undo her hair. Su'riel, keep playing that song, and watch your elbows.” Su'riel quickly moved her elbows closer to the lute and kept playing a very enchanting tune.

I brushed her hair out and as I began to braid it, Minerva sat down the cane next to me, and showed me how to twist it and create a strange and what appeared to be sloppy looking tangle with the unbraided tips sticking out the top and showing over the top of her head.

As I was pinning it in place Tobius entered the studio and sat down. He had managed to recover his staff, but looked a little tired for the effort. He pulled out a pipe and lit it with his fingers. Minerva went to the middle of the room where she could view Su'riel from the front and called me over to her.

“There Rolan, does that not look pleasing?”

I was surprised at how attractive it was. Normally I made sure to braid her hair tightly and neatly but this was something that seemed disheveled by comparison and yet the look was extremely striking. Minerva looked over at me with one eyebrow raised, and I realized I had still not responded to her. “Yes, it is quite pleasing.”

“Oh Rolan, she is your wife, you don’t have to lie, if you don’t like it you should tell her––  eventually she will forgive you and allow you to touch her.”

“No. No. I am being sincere. That look is extremely alluring. It-” Su'riel looked at me and smiled and I suddenly could not remember what I was going to say.

“Rolan, do not drool over my student in my studio. Before you leave, however, I want you to consider helping Su'riel do her hair in this fashion before a performance. This look with her talent will make men empty their coin purses. It is the sort of thing that could make a king offer you half his kingdom.”

“But only if she accepts his offer to be his fifth wife,” Tobius interjected.

“It was not his fifth wife,” Minerva spun around to address Tobius

“It wasn’t his first, and I seem to recall you needed a little help to get out of that situation.”

“I could have easily walked out of that situation of my own accord.”

“Either as his wife or as the perpetrator of regicide.”

“Yes, I had several options, putting the whole court to sleep was unnecessary.”

“Only if you wanted to rot in a prison, or worse be married to man you described as fat and smelling of moldy cheese and unwashed garments.”

“It might be better than being a married to a wizard that interrupts my lessons.”

“Rolan, it’s time we return to your lessons.”

“Yes, you may leave my studio.”

“But I’m taking this with us.” Tobius held out his hand and Minerva’s cane came to him.

Su'riel looked relieved to see the cane leave with us.

“That's the fourth rule of wizardry Rolan, always disarm your opponent when they think they are winning.”

“I thought she said she was your wife, not your opponent,”

“She didn’t say it, she implied it. It’s harder and harder to get her to admit to anything these days. And I’m not here to teach you about marriage, I’m here to teach you about magic.”

“Yes. You were going to tell me the first rule of wizarding.”

“We’ve lost a lot of time already this morning, let’s continue to work on scorching ray.”

Throughout the morning I continued to practice scorching ray. Tobius summoned two more stone targets and wanted me to attack all three at once. I was not exactly hitting the target every time but it was no longer likely I would burn the monastery down.

When it was almost lunch time Tobius told me to give it one more try while he summoned our wives. He gently took Minerva’s cane and walked back to her studio. I took my last shot with the scorching ray and managed to hit all three targets. I turned back to look at Tobius, but he had his back to me. I heard him call, “Well done Rolan,” over his shoulder as he waved his staff and the stones disappeared.

He stepped into the studio and in a moment he returned with Minerva, walking arm in arm. Minerva carried her cane in the off hand and rested her head on his shoulder as they walked. They spoke to each other in hushed tones, and seemed like elderly grandparents simply off to visit their grandchildren.

Su'riel soon joined me, and watched their strange procession to the monastery's dining hall.

“I fear those two do not make any sense to me,” I confessed to Su'riel.

“Oh, they make perfect sense to me.”

I looked over at her, and she gave me a simple knowing look as we began our way to the dining hall.

“Would you care to elaborate?”

“They love each other Rolan, and I think they have been together long enough that they also generally antagonize each other. Even when they are saying are doing mean things to each other it is an act of love.”

“That still makes no sense to me.”

“Why not Rolan? People say I love you in different ways.”

“That does not appear to be love, that appears to be madness.”

“Love is madness Rolan, surely you’ve read that in your studies.”

“That seems like something more I would hear in a bard’s song,” I was not thinking about what I was saying.

Su'riel’s eyes flashed, “Tell me Rolan, do you know why she carries that cane?”

I doubted the purpose of the cane was expressly for violence, but I knew Su'riel enjoyed threatening harm, so I decided to tease her a little, “I do not, but I can tell you she is an absolute menace with that cane. Somehow, though, I imagine you could come up with a more creative way to elicit the response you want.”

Su'riel was quiet for a few minutes and appeared to be thinking about what I said.

By this time we had entered the dining hall. There were more people than I expected, some were clearly part of some monastic order, although Eberek had mentioned this facility was not an active monastery. As we got in line for the lunch of fresh bread and soup, I noticed Eberek was behind us in line. He grinned at me and I suspect he may have been listening into our conversation for quite some time.

I took a tray with a loaf of bread and a bowl of the thick dark soup.

Su'riel took a tray for herself and selected a small loaf of bread and took her own bowl of soup. “I’ve thought about it Rolan, and I’ve decided I still want the cane. Sure, I could be creative, but that cane is quick and to the point. I could see where a wizard's wife could use such a thing–– daily.” Su'riel flashed her mischievous grin, but I was not certain that she was kidding.

Normally this is where Su'riel wins her argument and I must concede defeat, but today I thought I would try to use logic to win the day, “You would prefer such a crude and direct method over being subtle and appearing insouciant? I must say I am surprised you would stoop to something so unskillful.”

“Oh, I use the subtlety and an appearance of indifference more often than you think–– the cane would be for the times when the best of my skill meets the worst of your insensitivity. Though I’ll admit you’re getting better, I’d probably only need it twice, maybe three times a day.”

Eberek chuckled, as I shook my head in defeat. I looked over at her and she glanced at me with a straight face before she smiled at me, and asked, “So, Rolan are you going to forbid me having a cane?”

We found our seats and Eberek sat down across from us as I replied, “If I thought it would stop you, yes, but I am generally certain that to forbid you something makes it your personal challenge.”

Eberek laughed harder as Su'riel took on a tone of mock hurt, “Oh! That isn’t true, if you forbid me from having sex with you, I would gladly comply.”

“Su'riel! Why would you even-”

She smiled and gave me a quick loving hug, “See Rolan, this is how two people live a long and happy life of love and personal animosity.”

“Does that seem appealing to you?”

“Not necessarily, but you wanted to ‘discern a certain level of madness’, and as a scholar I thought I would help you. I’m just trying to be helpful.” She gave me a coy look that implied she was trying to be anything but helpful.

Eberek chuckled again, and then asked us, “Now that you’ve had your fun Su'riel, would you two like to know how Minerva came to carry a cane?”

We both nodded. I took the opportunity to glance down at the other of the table at Tobius and Minerva. He was bringing her more wine and gently rubbing her back as he poured it.

“It was about ten or fifteen years ago. Minerva didn’t always carry that cane. She used to have a longsword. Now that cane contains a very sharp rapier. She is, as you say Rolan, an absolute menace, with either of those weapons.”

Su'riel whispered in my ear “Please, can we get me a sword cane.”

“No. You're enough of a menace with your daggers,” I whispered back, as Eberek continued, “For whatever reason, a couple bands of Goblins decided to join forces to try and destroy Daggersford. The Daggersford militia were able to keep them at bay but we found ourselves under siege. The Harpers sent in a contingent of champions to lead a strike force of the best from the militia to take down the leaders of the goblin bands in the hope that it would cause enough confusion among the goblins to get them to fight each other.”

“I vaguely remember that, but I think I was too new to the Harpers and I didn’t have any real martial skill for such a mission,” Su'riel interjected.

“Yes. We needed real heavy hitters, Ken was there from Watersdeep. He lost his eye in this battle.”

“Oh, I do remember this now.”

“Very good, Su'riel. So we slipped past the goblins patrols and defenses by night and found the main headquarters section, and that is when the goblins discovered us. In the process of killing the goblin leadership, one of them managed to sound the alarm. We were beset on every side by hordes of goblins. Tobius and Minerva managed to get to the top of this hill that overlooked the area where we were surrounded. The two of them began to the most amazing thing. They were back to back, slowly walking in a circle. She would alternate between singing and using her sword to defend them as he rained down death and destruction on the goblins. It was like a dance of death for their enemies. I was in the middle of the fray cracking goblin skulls. When she sang I could feel my strength return. I felt young and like I could swing my war hammer all day.

To watch them was a thing of beauty and terror. One of them would step to the side and cast magic to aid their friends or hurt their foes, while the other either parried a blow with sword or staff or cut down the monsters with magic or blade. The goblin’s numbers were countless, but because of Minvera and Tobius, we prevailed. Then the goblin’s realized that they were our strength. I do not know if they were seeking to hit her or him, but one of their terrible archers put two poisoned arrows into her leg. She was crippled and unable to continue their dance. Tobius cast magic unlike anything I had seen, even to this day. It was like a wizard’s power mixed with a berserker's rage. Tobius called down heaven and earth to destroy his enemies. The goblins trying to climb the hill were vaporized, the archers that had shot at them were crushed by a meteor. I feared Tobius might forget the difference between friend and foe.

But then the battle turned, what was likely hatred turned to fear as the goblins tried to run from such a force of nature. Tobius continued to maim and destroy any goblin he could see till he fell–– exhausted. The Militia rallied and ensured it would be a long time before the goblins ever considered such a venture again. But my friends would never be the same. I ran up the hill to find Minerva holding an unconscious Tobius. She had lost a great deal of blood, and the venom from the arrows was killing her. She looked up at me and pleaded that I would not to take the leg. We both knew there was likely little choice.

Minerva is a talented bard and able to play many instruments and sing, but she loved to dance. For her to lose that gift and skill was a fate worse than death. I did my best for her there at the site, but it wasn’t enough. We had two Paladins among us, and they too were unable to reverse the poison, and Tobius required medical attention as well. Once we got her back here, I did everything I could. Other clerics and priests came. We prayed, we fasted, we exercised the full extent of our healing arts, but she was dying.

It took Tobius nearly two days to recover. He was actually a little mad at first, to perform that level of magic for that long had taken something out of him mentally. When he did recover, he had a long talk with Minerva and me. Tobius knew a terrible necromancy ritual that would allow him to recreate Minerva’s body from a pound of her flesh. He reasoned we could amputate the leg and he could make her body whole again. It would take several months, but if she could live as a cripple for that long he could make her not only whole but young again. None of us were comfortable with this plan.

Tobius studied night and day and eventually found another ritual. It would bind their life forces together. The spell was successful and Minerva recovered, mostly. She can dance for short periods of time, but walking on stone or hard terrain hurts her. She has good days and bad days. Tobius is a half elf, and I do not know what effect the binding had on him, but he is nearly 200 years old, and we all know he won’t live too many more winters. Minerva herself is approaching 70, so, again, if either of them were to die today we would say it was from old age. However, by binding their lives together when one of them dies, the other will certainly perish.”

“Then their abuse of each other makes even less sense.”

“Part of the piece you are missing Rolan is that when Minerva and Tobius met, they didn’t actually like each other. I went on many missions, and even fought in several campaigns with both of them. They were always in the back together supporting their friends and wounding their enemies. Each thought their discipline was superior to the other, sometimes they would try to do out do each other, sometimes they would just insult each other. They both actually had a begrudging respect for the other’s skills, but they would have been hard pressed to admit it. I can remember many times though, if one was in peril the other was the first to come to their aide, or if one volunteered for a dangerous mission the other would be quick to volunteer as well. I can’t tell you when the scales tipped from fellow harper, to friend to lover. It was a subtle thing, and I suspect they both regret it happened toward the end of their lives.”

“Is that why Minerva is such an angry woman?” I asked.

Su'riel hit me, and said, “This is why I need a cane, Rolan. Minerva isn’t angry she is just frustrated with people who aren’t…” She looked back at Eberek, “Actually, now that you mention it why is she so angry?”

Eberek sighed. “Minerva was born to royalty, she wasn’t in line to be a princess, I believe her father was the King’s brother or cousin. Either way she was the same age as the king’s daughter so she was raised with the princess and allowed to enjoy the finer things. Her childhood was spent learning to dance, sing, play musical instruments, ride horses, all the luxuries that a child of a royal court could be afforded. When she was sixteen there was a coup and most of her family were murdered. She had to flee for her life, go into hiding and became a bard to survive. How she joined the harpers is similar to your own story, Su'riel. She possessed many skills that made it easy to place her near royalty. I think sometimes she reflects back on her life–– knowing things could have been different. Look at it from her perspective, she was raised with an assurance of comfort and respect, she instead had to earn a living playing for pocket change, and then when she was with the Harpers she has had to endure hardship and struggle for the greater good. Now at the end of her days her life is magically bound to a half-elf that sometimes takes pleasure in making her angry.”

“These things make more sense to me, but I still cannot understand why Tobius would seek to upset her.”

“He probably thinks she is pretty when she is angry, and it is his way of flirting with her, sort of like Beyor’s way of saying crude things to the women around him.”

Eberek nodded, “Listen to your wife Rolan, some people prefer a little friction or spice in their life. It may not be for everyone, but don’t judge how another man seasons his soup.” As if to demonstrate, Eberek then sprinkled pepper into his soup and then offered some to me and Su'riel. I waved off the offer, but Su'riel gladly put some in her bowl, and then with a wolfish grin she put some in mine.

I looked over at Su'riel and she had just gave me a knowing look and rubbed her hand on my back. It seems love would be a great mystery to me. But Eberek implied there was an aspect of opinion or preference in how love was expressed. Perhaps I would never need to understand men like Beyor or even Tobius, but just as long as I was properly expressing love to Su'riel in a way that she appreciated. There was much for me to consider. As I ponder these things, Su'riel leaned over and whispered, “Eat your soup, you are going to like it spicy.” Perhaps Su'riel was going to teach me about the love she appreciated, or at least how she preferred soup.  

One of the monks approached Eberek and whispered into his ear, he looked a little surprised, and told the monk to go into town and find an elven paladin named Feylon, and tell him that Eberek needed the one hand axe man. Eberek then excused himself and said he needed to attend to other business.

After our meal, Su'riel and I decided to adjourn to the library. She would practice her new songs, and I would research more of the magic I wanted Tobius to teach me. As we walked past their table, Tobius grabbed my arm.

“Rolan, there is a peculiar wooded glen about two leagues down the road headed west. You can see it from the road as it is on top of a hill. If you, or someone like you, were there when the moon reaches its highest point, and then you––” 

“Or someone like me”?

“Don’t interrupt, that isn’t a rule to magic but it should be, so it’s now the eleventh rule.”

“What about all-”

“What’s the eleventh rule?”

I said nothing.

“Good, so if you picked yourself a piece of willow from that glen when the moon reaches its zenith you would have yourself a potent piece of moon willow. It would make a good staff, particularly for a moon elf.”

“Thank you sir. I will not disappoint you.”

Su'riel had a look like she was up to something, “How far away is this glen?” she asked.

“About two leagues, easy walk.”

“Thank you sir, do you think it would be acceptable if we had our dinner out there as we waited for the moon to reach its high point?”

“Well, honestly as long as you’re not late for instruction, I don’t see why I should care.” Tobius responded.

Minerva banged the handle of her cane on the table, “Do not be late for my class either young lady, and try not to lose any of your clothes in that glen.”

Several heads turned as Su'riel blushed and we quickly headed for the library.

“You truly wish you were more like that woman? She has a certain meanness about her.”

“She actually has a softer side. She was impressed with your hair braiding, and once Tobius took her cane away things became much more pleasant in her studio. I also think she likes me.”

“Really, what makes you say that?”

“When Tobius led her out of the studio he winked at me and said, “she usually leaves welts”.”

“So you believe you are her favorite because she has failed to significantly injure you? It could be he was trying to help you appreciate the fact he took the cane from her early in the lesson”

“No. I’m her favorite,  a woman knows. We have a connection as bards.”

Su'riel has a logic all her own, and I considered trying to use logic of my own to counter hers, but that went poorly for me earlier, so I kept silent.

We soon arrived at library. The monastery had an extensive library, and I thought when I was done with my magical lessons, I may see what other knowledge was contained in the many books and tomes of that collection.

As I studied, Su'riel practiced her song of rest. I found it quite rejuvenating. I was able to cover to go through several tomes and determine the magic that I wanted Tobius to teach me. I was also able to confirm that I wanted to study evocation more in depth. 

The quiet afternoon wore on pleasantly as the two of us went about our studies, and I could not help but think that it would be easy to get get used to married life if every day together was as pleasant as the first.


	18. Chapter 16: Rolan - The Staff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobius sends Rolan on an evening quest to procure a wizard's staff-- Rolan and Su'riel make an evening picnic out of it. The next morning, a friend shows up at the monastary in hopes of becoming a paladin.

As the shadows grew long, Su'riel suggested that I go find Eberek and procure the food for our picnic. She mentioned that she had a few other things to prepare for before we left. Eberek was in his office near the kitchen and was extremely helpful in outfitting us for our picnic. I believe he had overheard the conversation we had with Tobius and Minerva. He also reiterated that I should be careful to collect any lose articles of clothing–– chuckling about little wizards and bards as he sent me on my way with another bottle of wine and a basket of bread, cheese, fruit, and roasted chicken.

I met Su'riel in the courtyard–– she was wearing my traveling cloak and her sandals. I asked her why she had decided against wearing her boots, and she responded, saying it was a short walk and she simply felt like  wearing sandals.

As we walked to the glen, we talked over our lessons of the day. She had generally appreciated her lesson and felt that Minerva was a great teacher–– different than her original master. Partially because Minerva was a dancer first, but also because Minerva was a Harper. I believe we both had found a new respect for our respective teachers after Eberek’s story.  I agreed that Tobius was a much better instructor than my uncle, and it seemed to stem from the fact that as a Harper he had a very practical and utilitarian sense of how to apply magic. For my uncle it was all theoretical.

Just before sunset, we found the glen, and Su'riel insisted we sit on the side of the hill that could not be seen from the road. I spread out the blanket on a flat portion of ground just below the crest of the hill. We sat and ate our meal and talked more of the events of the day.

I was reclining against a tree and Su'riel was sitting beside me. I noticed the poor shape my cloak was in, by now the rips, tears, burns, stains and arrow holes had become too numerous to catalog. I asked her why she insisted on wearing it.

“Rolan, what is the most precious thing you own?”

I had many precious things, there was the ring she had given me this morning, there was my spell book, as well as my uncles journal and my own personal journal. When I sensed the pause was becoming too great I replied, “The ring you gave me, it is a beautiful piece of art–– it states that I am married, and it symbolizes our love.”

“What else?”

“My spell book.”

“Rolan, does this cloak not have great meaning to you?”

It did, however it had become seriously mutilated over the course of our travels, and Su'riel had begun to simply wear it at her leisure. However I could tell this was leading somewhere. “Yes, it does.” I had also sensed that I should be careful bringing up my mother, but if she asked why the cloak had value I would be hard pressed to not discuss the origin of this particular gift.

“And Rolan, has it occurred to you that maybe this cloak is unlucky?”

“It had not occurred to me, but if I believed in luck, I would probably suppose that perhaps the cloak attracted misfortune.”

“Well I’ve decided I’m going to make it your lucky cloak.”

She put a strange emphasis on the word lucky and as she said the words she slid atop me and straddled my legs.

I lightly braced my hands on her hips and asked, “How do you propose to make it my lucky cloak?”

“Because you're about to get lucky.” 

She grabbed my arms and moved them under the cloak and my eyes widened as I felt that she was wearing nothing beneath the cloak. She gave me a smile that was part invitation and part lust.

I am constantly filled with a hunger and desire for Su'riel, but these are feelings I generally try to keep in check so that I can accomplish useful things during the day. At that moment, however, there was nothing that needed to be done. I pulled her close and our lips met. The feeling was difficult to describe–– it was electric, it was warm, it was soft. I could feel her hands running up my sides. She had slid them under my own tunic. Soon she had my shirt off and had wrapped us up both in my cloak. I could feel her naked chest against my own. There was a peculiar passion and rhythm to everything that Su'riel did. She kissed me with an increasing intensity and deeper and longer. I ran my hands down her back and then cradled her waist in one arm as I held her chin with my other hand. I then gently slid my hand down to her waist ensuring that I carefully caressed everything in between. We kissed and caressed each other for quite sometime and then we became one, and afterwards––  when were two again–– I still could feel the intimacy and closeness that I had never understood before.

I began to wonder if some of the things that Tobius was trying to tell me were not really lessons on love. We were under the stars, our modestly barely protected by the torn remains of my “lucky” cloak that I was certain had just become grass stained, and I did not care. Su'riel had her head on my shoulder and was rubbing my chest as I gently ran my hand up and down her back.

“Su'riel, my love, whatever possessed you to make my cloak “lucky”.

“It was actually something Joy suggested.”

“Why would she, no–– do not tell me.”

We laid there for several moments–– I was enjoying the quietness of the evening as well as having Su'riel close beside me. The evening was cool and refreshing, but the moon would not reach its zenith for some time. I began to consider the day when Su'riel roused me from my musings by asking, “Rolan, what are you thinking about?”

“Love.”

“Oh? And what does the scholar think about love?”

“I was thinking about how to show you that I love you.”

She sensually ran her fingers down my chest. “I think you’ve figured out some good ways to demonstrate your love for me.”

“I was thinking more about how to say I love you by my actions and deeds. I know I can tell you that I love you, and we have already promised to love each other exclusively, and when we come together like this, it makes me forget almost anything else–– infernal machine, my studies, my own name.”

She reached up and gently moved my chin so she could kiss me, “Yes. I could see how making love to me could make you forget your own name. Sometimes when you touch me I have the same problem.”

“But Su'riel today we spoke with Eberek and you both told me that love can be expressed in different ways, so I wonder, what is the way that best tells you that I love you.”

Su'riel was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know Rolan. I think I appreciate how you spend time with me–– sometimes it's the simple acts, like braiding my hair, and sitting with me at the end of the day, and the way you and I talk. And I always appreciate a good compliment.”

“You are the most desirous woman I have ever seen.”

“Exactly. I never thought much of how anyone would express that they loved me, outside of saying it, or trying to lay with me.” She was quiet again as she sat up and wrapped herself in the cloak. “Perhaps it is time you find your clothes and braid my hair for the evening and we can talk more about this.”

I found my shirt and pants and when I had returned, Su'riel had already let her hair down. We had not brought the brush so I had to make do with just my fingers, but I was still able to make a passable braid. When I was done I leaned back and Su'riel rested on my chest. She was wrapped tightly in the cloak and I rested my arms around her above the cloak.

With a contented sigh she broke the silence, “I think every little thing you do for me says, ‘Su'riel I love you’. When you brush my hair, or touch me, or hold me, I feel warm and happy–– like I drank a glass of good wine. But, Rolan I have never had anyone ask me how to love me. It’s a question I’ve never thought about.”

I squeezed her tightly, “Am I putting too much thought into this?”

“No, Rolan. Believe it or not, music and love are as much science as they are art. The trouble is I look to the art. I know the rules, I understand them, but I work inside the constraint to create things of harmony and beauty. You see the rules and you want to understand them and how they create the bigger picture, you ask why and how. It’s not wrong, it’s just leads to unexpected questions.”

“I was taught that it was through questions that we enhance our understanding.”

“I know and I see that. Before we talked, if you had asked me what I thought I wanted from my lover I would have told you compliments, but now I see you could give me a dozen compliments and they wouldn’t mean as much to me as you holding my hand or braiding my hair.”

“I still regret that we have been married for two days now and I still have no gift to give you.”

“I like things, particularly shiny things, but Rolan it really isn’t necessary. But if it will make you feel better, I’ll just keep this cloak.”

“That seems like a terrible marriage gift, that wretched cloak is burnt, torn, stained, and punctured. I have seen parts of your wardrobe and I know for a fact that even before mishap befell this cloak it would have been one of the more humble things in your collection.”

“Rolan, things can have more than one value. This cloak may have lost a little of its luster, but it is still a rich piece of clothing. I’m keeping it.” She wrapped herself up tighter in the cloak.

“It was always yours.”

“Then you had better start taking care of it.”

How does she always manage to reverse these things on me? Once more I tried to defend myself. “It seems to me that the last few incidents where the cloak was damaged, you were wearing it, or our friends decided in their alcohol addled minds that this cloak made a good crossbow target.”

“Well, one, there are fresh grass stains on my cloak, and I’m certain that was are more than half your fault.”

“More than half?”

“Yes, you were manhandling me. And, second, this isn’t just some farewell trinket from your mother, this is one of my most prized possessions, and I want you to start defending it like it’s my honor.” She smiled at me again, and knew it was hopeless.

“As you wish, my love. Is there anything else?”

“Yes. We need to learn some magic to mend tears and get stains out of this cloak.”

Love may not be madness, but sometimes it was like playing chess where the rules would periodically change and half the board was hidden.

We lay there and waited for the moon to reach its highest point. When it was time, Su'riel and I rose and we carefully approached the stand of trees in the middle of the glen.

“How will you know which willow will make the best staff for you?”

“I do not know. I read a few books this afternoon about how to select a staff. I definitely agree with Tobius that moon willow would be ideal for me, but all the writings implied that it would be obvious which to pick.”

As I looked at the trees and the various fallen branches, and other deadfall, nothing seemed obvious.

“Su'riel, when you picked your lute how did you choose it?”

“I picked the most sparkly pretty instrument. And I was wearing red that day, so I wanted something to go with red.”

“You are kidding, right?”

“Of course, my lute was custom built, my parents loved me, and spared no expense on me.”

“You and I had very different childhoods. Most of what I received was a hand me down, and if it was clothing I was just pleased when it did not come from a sister.” I tried a promising looking tree that appeared dead but standing. I gave it a little shake and it snapped off, but I was unprepared and l fell with the dead tree. I rolled around in the dark for a bit, then I took a different piece of deadfall to help me prop myself back up.

“Well I think you got it, Rolan.”

“What?” I looked at the deadfall in my hands, and sure enough I was holding a staff. The places where it had once had branches were broken off and made crescent moon shapes the top staff had a hollow point where a magical regent could be placed. It was several inches taller than I, and it felt sturdy but light.

“There you are, it was an obvious choice. Now I’m cold and tired–– we should return to the monastery.”

I bent my arm so Su'riel could place her arm through the crook of my elbow. We collected the basket and blanket and started back down the road. It took a bit of work but soon I had learned how to walk with the staff. It then occurred to me that it was foolish for us to walk in the dark so I cast light on the staff and suddenly the road was illuminated. I turned and looked at Su'riel. She was holding the cloak tightly around her and smiling her amazing smile.

“What pleases you my dear?”

“You. You look like a real wizard, with your staff. I didn’t realize it before, but you’ve needed a staff for some time.”

“Your praise and your smile is a magic greater than my own–– at least to me. Besides staves are such common things, but how many wizards have a beautiful wife?”

“You, Tobius, maybe the ones that either conjure them up or beguile them, or cast some spell of beautification on them. Really if you’re a powerful wizard with an ugly wife, I’d question how powerful you really are.”

“Well it is lucky for me I got a beautiful wife based on something other than my own skill.”

“That's true, I seem to recall you got me based on a quick talking cleric.” She continued to smile and her eyes glowed in the light of my staff.

“Someday, when I am a powerful wizard, I might be able to actually win one of these clever little exchanges with you.”

“Unlikely, because by the time you’re a powerful wizard, I’ll be a powerful bard, and no one ever wins a battle of wits or banter with a bard.”

“I would submit to you that Eberek might.”

“He cheats. He uses some divine magical power to beguile people when he talks. He says he servers Oghma, the god of knowledge, but sometimes I think he secretly worships Tymora, the goddess of trickery.”

We were now at the monastery door. “Well I may never get the best of you in a conversation, but I believe I still get the best of you.”  I embraced Su'riel and began to kiss her as I heard the monastery door behind me open. I stopped for a moment and looked behind me to see two tall men framed in the doorway. I let go of Su'riel but made sure to pull the cloak a little tighter as I turned to greet the men.

“Are you Rolan and Su'riel?”

“Yes, and who are you, if may inquire?”

“I’m Dorien and this is Feylon,” said the man on the left. “Why don’t you two get in here? It’s getting late.”

Su'riel and I quickly stepped inside. In the torchlight of the main chamber I could see that Dorien and Feylon had the broad shoulders and muscular build of warriors. Dorien was a tall human stocky human with no beard and short hair. He was missing his right hand below the wrist, but extended his right arm to me in greeting. Without being sure what to do I grasped his wrist, and he pushed the residual limb hard into my own wrist.

“Good to meet you Rolan, the Harpers could always use another good wizard. Be sure to learn as much as you can from Tobius, he is a powerful warrior.”

Dorien turned to Su’riel, this time he extended his left hand palm up. She was making sure to hold the cloak close and tight to body, and had to switch hands to place her left hand is his. He bowed and kissed her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Su'riel. We've never worked together, but we’ve heard of your work in Waterdeep, and know about the incident in Baldur’s gate.”

“Likewise,” she said sheepishly as she wrapped her hand back around her, tightening the cloak a little more.

Feylon and Dorien exchanged knowing looks. Then Feylon extended his right arm to me. I grasped it and he gave me a reassuring squeeze and shake. Feylon was a tall wood elf with deep brown hair and green eyes. He had a strange smile that implied he knew more than he would say. “It is good to have more of my own people working the Harpers, and it is a pleasure to meet you both.” He then extended his right palm to Su'riel and, taking her hand, kissed it.

I could tell that she was uncomfortable with the situation due to her attire–– it was clearly not fooling anyone.  

“Gentlemen, forgive us, but we would like to retire for evening, perhaps we will be able to talk more later.”

Dorien could barely contain himself as he laughed, “Certainly, we’ll see you tomorrow when––  hopefully–– you will be better dressed.”

Feylon nodded and with a knowing smile said, “He means when you’ve had a rest.”

Su'riel blushed as I quickly escorted her back to our room. Once we were safely behind closed doors she took off the cloak and pulled out a long sleeping shirt that had an exaggerated soft and fluffy looking pattern of dire wolves.

“I have never seen you wear anything like that, my love.”

“Hmmm? It isn’t exactly flattering, but it is very comfy to sleep in.”

“Were you a little embarrassed to meet those Harpers wearing next to nothing.”

“Oh, a little, I’m sure I’ll laugh it off later, but right now, I just want to be comfortable and sleep.”

“Well, at least you did not lose your tunic.”

She gave me a warning look, so I chose to change the subject. “May I ask about the incident at Baldur’s gate?”

“Let’s just say I literally had to walk through a mile of shit, and I lost a good friend. It’s the reason why I’m quick to change the subject whenever you want to talk about the modern marvel that is Baldur’s gate sewer system. To me it isn’t a marvel, it was a mile of shit that I had to drag a dead friend through. Now, no more questions or talk about my clothes, my loving scholar, just hold me tight while I sleep.”

We got comfortable on the massive bed, and I had barely closed my eyes when I was awoken by the sound of someone hitting rocks with a hammer.

“Waz that?” Su'riel was apparently awake too.

“I believe someone is hitting rocks with a hammer.”

“Please set ‘em on fire.” She rolled over and burrowed under blankets and pillows.

I walked over to the window, the sun was rising, so we had slept for a few hours, but I was just realizing we would have been wiser to have tranced. I could see a small armored figure banging on a large boulder with a warhammer. I tried to get their attention, but nothing I said worked. I thought about Su'riel’s suggestion, but I realized that if no one else from the monastery was taking steps to stop the armored rock breaker, it must mean something.

I returned to the bed, and laid back down. I wondered if I had some spell to silence the noise, or fill our room with some other less irritating sound. Su'riel sat up.

“What is going on?”

“There is a person in armor behind the monastery trying to break rocks with a warhammer.”

“Is their armor fireproof?”

“It was platemail, so probably, but I suspect that person is somehow attached to the monastery. We cannot be the only two people that have been disturbed by the sound of steel on rock.”

“Just once I’d like you to do what I say when I tell you to set someone on fire.”

“Every person you have asked me to set on fire, was someone that would later help us.”

“I asked you to set Beyor on fire, and you punched him.”

“Those incidents were far removed, perhaps you could play your song of rest, and then we can go down to breakfast.”

Su'riel nodded, and soon we both felt better, perhaps not as well as we would have felt with a few more hours of sleep, but it was an improvement. We dressed and I made sure to grab my staff, as I did not wish to spend another day with a smoldering broom.

Once the sun had broken over the horizon, we went down stairs, and were the first into the dining hall for breakfast. We both got large cups of tea and sweet rolls and fruit. Since we were both exceptionally tired, we each had an additional cup of tea as we loitered in the dining hall. 

The sun was fully up, but we still had an hour or so before our lessons would begin. We found a secluded alcove in the courtyard and sat back to back. Su'riel practiced her music and I pored over my spell book.

After about twenty minutes, Dorien and Feylon came out of the dining hall. They were both in full plate mail and it was obvious they were paladins. Both had their shields on their backs–– Dorien’s shield had a pair of wings in the center while Feylon’s shield bore a running deer.

“Were these the guys that were banging rocks before sunrise?”

“I do not believe so. The rock breaker was smaller, and it was only one person.”  

“If I asked you-”

“No, I’m not setting them on fire.”

“Well, if you won’t do what I want to do, let's go be sociable.”

As we approached Feylon and Dorien, we could overhear their conversation.

“I’m not as convinced as Eberek about making a Paladin of her in two weeks.” Dorien stated

“Her father was my squire, so I know she knows a few things about being a Paladin.  We’ve pressed some squires into service as full Paladins on the campaign trail. It can be done quickly, with the right person,” Feylon replied

“We’ll see if she is the right person.”

Feylon heard us approach. “Good morning Su'riel, Rolan, how are you this morning?”

“Good,” I replied, “though we were woken up a little early.”

“Yeah, you two are in for a treat. You get to see how Paladin recruits get broken in.” Dorien grinned mischievously.

“Will your recruit be waking us up every morning?” Su’riel asked darkly.

“Well it’s hard to say, we’ll see if the recruit makes it through today,” Dorien replied, then added, “and it’s good to see you fully dressed.” He winked at Su’riel, who narrowed her eyes in response.

“You two seem a little overdressed,” she quipped.

“Well, from the elf who was a little underdressed last night, I’ll take that with a grain of salt.”

“Careful,” Feylon whispered.

“Careful of what, a bard? Now if the wizard got angry, and I wasn’t in my armor, I might be a little concerned, but what is she going to do, sing me to sleep?” He made a dismissive gesture in her direction with his left arm, and Su'riel saw her chance. She grabbed his arm and spun under it while pushing down on his elbow, before he knew it Dorien was doubled over and looking at the ground. Su'riel had her waist in his armpit and kept his hand at a painful angle. Dorien was stuck half-way between standing and falling.

“She was trained by Ken, and as an elven bard she has speed and grace. You were safer when she had to concern herself with not letting her cloak open, your armor won’t protect you from her daggers,” Feylon observed with near indifference.

“Why the hell do you always wait till the woman has me bent over before you tell me these things?”

“Because it is like old times. And I like to keep you a little humble before we start training a new recruit.” Feylon placed an armored hand on Su'riel’s shoulder. “Please let my friend up.”  Su'riel carefully let go of his hand and pulled his arm back up so he didn’t fall.

“Alright Su'riel, I’ll keep my comments about our first meeting to myself. That was a pretty nice move. I’m glad you’re a Harper.”

“I’m sorry myself Dorien, I’m a little tired and grouchy from lack of sleep, embarrassed about last night, and you reminded me of someone else for a moment.”

That was odd, usually Su'riel doesn’t apologize. I suppose being tired does bring out different traits in people.

“Don’t worry about it, sometimes I get a little cocky, and it’s cost me in the past” He looked down at his right arm, “Some lessons have to be relearned semi-regularly.”

Feylon reached over to Dorien, “There may have been some pride that led to your sacrifice, but never regret what was won by your loss.”

Before Dorien and Feylon could continue their enigmatic conversation a diminutive armored figure walked out into the courtyard. The figure was wearing full plate mail, and nearly dragging a shield and a warhammer. Eberek was behind the armored figure with his warhammer. Tobius and Minerva were also following behind the armored figure.

Dorien shouted, “RECRUIT COME TO ME!”

The armored figure began to run, or tried to run–– they were so encumbered it looked like it was a show of more effort than anything faster. When the recruit finally got close to Dorien he ordered her to carefully lower her shield and weapons and remove her helmet. To our shock Joy carefully slung her warhammer behind her, leaned her shield against her legs and took off her helmet.

Feylon began to speak in quiet measured tones, “Tell us sword sister, why would you be a paladin?”

“Aye. I was ina battle and I saw mah friends hurt and injured and ah knew ah couldna help them. We fought again’ evil Necromancer and ‘is ‘oard of skeletons. And ah wished I coulda ‘elped. I wanted to ‘eal em, but mah songs of ‘ealing wah too weak. I wanted to fight, but I was too weak.”

Feylon nodded, “So you desire to help your friends? Heal their wounds? Fight beside them? Let your courage be their strength?”

“Aye.”

“Being a paladin is more than this though, you must also be deeply spiritual and have a strong relationship with your deity. Tell us sister, who do you serve?”

“Mah family worships Torm. ‘e knows us well”.

“Would you trust in Torm to deliver you? To answer your cries for help? Do you think that your service of Torm is good enough that he would raise your fallen friends simply because you asked?” Feylon’s tone were calming and soothing. I knew if I was in battle this would be the man I would want next to me.

“I dunno’ know, but I’d shur try to be worthy”

“Sometimes this is all we can ask, but you must work on your relationship to Torm.” Feylon’s measured tones suddenly took on cruel edge, “you will need the help of the gods if you are going to survive these two weeks.”

“HOLD UP YOUR SHIELD!” Doiren shouted as Eberek handed him his warhammer. He held it for a moment, feeling the weight, judging it. Then he shouted, “TELL ME, WOULD YOU HOLD THIS SHIELD TO DEFEND YOUR FAMILY?”

As she replied with an “Aye.” He nearly knocked her over with a one handed blow to the shield.

“Would you hold this shield to defend your companions?” Feylon calmly asked as Dorien passed the hammer to him.

As she replied “aye” the blow again fell and nearly knocked her down.

“WOULD YOU SACRIFICE YOUR OWN FLESH TO PROTECT THE DEFENSELESS?” Dorien shouted as Feylon passed the hammer back to Dorien.

As she replied aye Dorien knocked her backwards. It was a struggle for her to stay on her feet and keep the shield up, but she managed.

“Would you hold this shield to defend Dorien?” Feylon asked and before Dorien could offer the hammer to him he simply pointed back at him.

Joy was slightly confused by this question but she still managed to reply “Aye” as the hammer fell again, this time she staggered and nearly fell, but managed to bring the shield back up.

“Alright recruit, rest a moment. I want you to think about something.” Feylon again spoke in even measured tones.

“WHO IS THE ONE PERSON WE DID NOT ASK YOU TO DEFEND WITH YOUR SHIELD?” Dorien shouted.

Joy looked down for a moment, it was clear that she was exhausted, but there was still some fight in her. She looked around at all of us, then back at Dorien, “mah self.”

Feylon and Dorien exchanged looks, “We might make a paladin out of you yet.”

“GET YOUR HELMET ON AND YOUR WEAPONS READY, FOLLOW ME.”

Dorien and Feylon began to jog in full armor as Joy hopelessly tried to keep up. Eberek explained that she had come to the monastery seeking to become a paladin. He didn’t believe it was possible for her to be properly trained as a paladin in the few weeks that he planned to help Su'riel and I enhance our skills, but she convinced him she could do it. Now she might be regretting her choice, but Eberek assured us that Feylon would not let Dorien kill her. Then Eberek picked up his warhammer and walked away flipping the hammer into the air and catching it.

Tobius and Minerva were approaching, and as Tobius walked up, he began “Well that was quite a martial display, I would hope both of you now see why the Paladin is a most useful companion. They will hold that shield and protect all around them, and when the battle is over they will heal the injured and even raise the fallen. They give time and space for real magic users to aid their allies, and for the entertainment to do their thing.”

Minerva’s placid expression became one of barely controlled rage, “The entertainment? While so-called real magic users are digging through their pouches of herbs and spices and trying to remember words to a forgotten language, the paladins allow the bards to sing songs that rouse the spirits of comrades, so they can charge into battle and fight to victory with strength in their arms and joy in their hearts.”

“Yes, yes, the point is though, the Paladin lets you play your little ditties and sway your hips on the sidelines reminding the warriors of whatever barmaid will be waiting for them in the next village, while Wizards are using the powers of nature to turn the tide of battle.”

“I’ll show you a sway of my hips.” Minerva raised her cane over her shoulder like a sword, but before she could bring it down Eberek called from an open window, “Minerva, would you please take Su'riel to your studio, and Tobius stop aggravating your wife and train Rolan.”

Minerva turned on her heels and began to swiftly glide toward her studio, she sang over her shoulder “Come Su'riel, while the wizards play with the forces of mud and rocks I will show you how to win the hearts of minds of real men.”

Tobius watched them leave and mumbled under his breath about how he did love the sway of those hips.

Soon Su'riel and I were distracted by our own studies. Throughout the day I would see Joy and the other paladins doing their various training exercises, and we constantly heard Dorien’s shouts. In the afternoon Su’riel and I took a nap, and spent the rest of the afternoon working on the lessons from the day.

Our time at the monastery took on a pattern. We would usually see or hear Joy in the mornings being put through some rigorous martial exercises. Su'riel and I began to rise early and take walks around the monastery. We would talk and I would fill my components bag. Our mornings were generally the same, with Minerva and Tobius helping us to learn new skills, between episodes of provoking each other. We would usually see Joy around the lunch table and Su'riel would play her song of rest to help Joy make it through the afternoon. In the afternoon we would continue to practice our new skills and our evenings were generally quiet intimate affairs in our room. This became our happy little pattern, until–– on the tenth day–– it was disturbed.


End file.
